


I've felt and I've Been

by autotunedd



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)
Genre: Endgame soulmates, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Slow Burn, canon based, classic push and pull stuff, dubious consent in one chapter, manipulative relationship (not gtop), mild violence, tw: depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 374,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autotunedd/pseuds/autotunedd
Summary: [OLDER STORY MOVED OVER FROM ANOTHER SITE. 2600+ subscribers on AFF.] : After dating for years, Seunghyun leaves the country unexpectedly and doesn't come back. Jiyong eventually moves on and begins seeing someone else, only for Seunghyun to return and throw a spanner in the works. This story is about how Jiyong and Seunghyun reconnect and cope with the changes and their love for one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read this before, it's a finished story that I'm posting from AFF for posterity. I started this at the beginning of 2012 and it lasted years, so I'm finally storing it here in case AFF ever goes bust one day. 2600+ subscribers on AFF.

  
  
  
His knee cracks on his way up the stairs and he wobbles for a moment, regaining his balance before continuing with Seunghyun in tow.  
  
'I'm getting old,' he says, switching from two steps at a time to one. 'What's the use in living if 26 is middle aged?'  
  
Seunghyun scoffs from a few steps behind and Jiyong takes a moment of silence to mourn the ghost of fitness past. His short heavy breaths almost rattle on their way out. He feels like an anti-smoking commercial, warding kids off cigarettes with the sounds of emphysema. The lift is broken. It works five days out of ten. On a good day, he can wake up late and gamble on the odds of getting to work on time. That morning, when he left the apartment, the green arrow lit up beneath his finger and he thanked God for his generosity. He was meeting Seunghyun for lunch and tried not to show up slick with sweat if he could ever help it. Living on the sixteenth floor, it takes fifteen minutes of begrudged scuffling down the staircase to reach the street.  
  
Seunghyun had eyed him warily when he flopped down beside him in their usual spot in Myeongdong.  
  
'Need some water?' he joked.  
  
'I got stuck in traffic. I'm sorry I’m late'.  
  
The cause of his lateness was a purposeful detour, stopping by Cheongdam-dong to pick up a little something for Seunghyun. It wasn't a birthday or anniversary gift. He didn't know when their anniversary actually was, and if he didn't know there was no way Seunghyun did either. It was just an, 'I love you,' sort of thing. Seunghyun's spontaneous presents could be ostentatious and overly thoughtful. Jiyong wanted to prove himself in the gift-giving department. Weeks earlier, he had sat on Seunghyun's bed with his laptop and spent the better part of an hour constructing elaborate money-spending schemes for their upcoming break. It wasn't often that they had weeks off at the same time. Money had to be spent and celebrations had. He ran through a list of ideas involving Lamborghini's, private jets and rented beaches in Antigua. When he found himself on a list of 'extravagant celebrity perfumes,' he noticed Seunghyun eyeing some of the world’s most expensive cologne. At 2,700,000₩ a bottle, he thought Seunghyun might get a kick out of it. He ordered it weeks ago and finally had it. So-- detour, lateness, cologne.  
  
He shrugged at Seunghyun's jibes about punctuality and assuaged his guilt by imagining the incoming gratitude for the present now sitting in his backpack.  
  
It is the solitary thought of making up for that earlier lateness that stops Jiyong now from giving in completely to the stream of complaints he usually spews forth when he's alone on the stairs. He ate too much at lunch and starts paying for it somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor with a stitch in his side. He breathes heavily, his bag moving from one shoulder to the other, trying to find some balance. Seunghyun follows up the stairs in silence. He hasn't spoken since they left the restaurant. While Jiyong cursed and danced up a tantrum in the lobby when the elevator didn't work, Seunghyun remained incommunicado. He didn't say a word as they pushed open the emergency staircase door and hasn't said one since. He's become a shadow, slowing on the stairs when Jiyong slows, speeding up when he fools himself into thinking he has a second wind.  
  
'Maybe after this meeting next week we can go on a trip somewhere,' Jiyong suggests between veiled puffs. 'I'm tired, we can both use a rest'.  
  
The bi-annual meeting for the company is six days away. After that they can do as they please with their relative freedom. Seunghyun had a vague plan all month about visiting his family but said over lunch he’d changed his mind. In that instant Jiyong began dreaming up a dozen places they could go together. He thought about Europe and continental breakfasts, Thailand and beautiful rooms on the water.  
  
He looks behind him and Seunghyun stops short, surprised by the sudden movement. He hasn't been listening.  
  
'Hm?'  
  
Jiyong turns and counts the steps to the next landing. 'I said maybe we can go on a trip after this meeting next week. I know you're dying to shirk your clothes and get a tan by a pool somewhere'.  
  
Seunghyun scoffs but Jiyong gets the feeling he isn't listening either way. It's just one of those days. He fills the air with hollow chatter that echoes off the walls. The long trek up the emergency staircase takes too damn long to pass it in silence.  
  
'We could go to the snow?'  
  
He's had a quiet hankering to go snowboarding. Maybe Seunghyun will come along this time. After their brief sojourn to New Zealand, he stopped refusing outright each time Youngbae invited him on a ski trip. There's hope for him yet. Jiyong dreams up the myriad ways he can annoy Seunghyun in the snow. Snowballs to the face, unsuccessful skiing lessons, shovelling ice into his jacket. Seunghyun doesn't answer so Jiyong continues to fantasize. Before Youngbae enlisted, he said Pocheon was good, the Bears Town Resort. With all his gear on, only a handful of people recognised him apparently. Jiyong dreams up a dozen ways he can trick Seunghyun into getting in the car. As they approach the resort he’ll feign ignorance. 'What? Ski slopes? Well. We're here now, let's stay a while'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't make a sound and thirty stairs later, Jiyong grows quietly frustrated by his inattention.  
  
'You know what sounds good? A Safari,' he says. 'A sympathetic elephant might sit on you. I'll be free to date someone who actually listens to me when I talk'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't respond. Jiyong hears his shoes scrape on the stairs behind him at a different step to his own. They're the only sign he isn't completely alone. Eventually he speeds up, ignoring the ache in his legs and makes the rest of the trip in silence. Seunghyun's a lost cause today. It happens. Hell, it was probably my fault, he thinks, for being late to lunch. That'll teach me. Or maybe he's just in a mood, that's all. One of those brooding, sulky, won't-say-a-word-for-hours moods that have been happening more frequently lately. Seunghyun is burnt out. This holiday can’t come soon enough.  
  
When they reach the top floor, sweat beads around Jiyong's hairline. His hands are familiarly damp, having made the trek up the emergency stairs at least a hundred times. He wipes his palms on his clothes and tries not to worry about Seunghyun's silence. The cologne will cheer him up. Whether he's mad because he was late to lunch or if it's something else, a spontaneous gift won't hurt. Usually on the long trek up the stairs Seunghyun irritates him with the same unfunny game he played the first time. 'I spy with my little eye, something beginning with S' – 'Is it stairs?'  
  
Today, he kind of missed it  
  
If Seunghyun is mad, that's okay. They can move around each other. Jiyong can stay out of his way if that's what he wants. He's tired anyway. He wants to sleep. He thinks about crawling into bed and sleeping for days. He hopes whatever is keeping Seunghyun quiet can be put aside. He'd rather they slept together, if that's still on the table. He sleeps better with Seunghyun than he does on his own.  
  
He fumbles with the keys and tries to think of the right way to spring his expensive surprise. He planned on waiting until after the meeting. He fancied he might hand over the pompous cologne and say 'let's take a spontaneous trip! First thing in the morning, let's get in the car and go somewhere! Wear your cologne to the Louvre!' That kind of thing. He doesn't think he can wait, now. Uncomfortable and sweaty, there's merit in handing Seunghyun the bag and saying 'I love you,' with an outstretched hand. Maybe he'll snap out of his mood and give him a kiss. That's all Jiyong wants at this point. He's too tired to have any designs about sex. A kiss and a thank-you and a few hours sleep sounds like bliss.  
  
He bursts through the door and kicks his shoes off with guided steps so they fly down the hallway and not through the television screen (for the second time). The door shuts behind him and he throws his scarf in whatever direction; his backpack falling at his feet. His throat is dry and the rest of him is wet. He needs a drink. He's sweating under his jacket.  
  
'Water or coffee?' he asks, while balancing on one leg trying to get his socks off. The effort draws his attention and he spends a terse minute fighting with his pants. He regains his balance after a tip and congratulates himself when his socks come loose.  
  
'Seunghyun?’  
  
He resigns himself to apologising for whatever garbage thing he's done because there's obviously something going on if Seunghyun isn't responding even now.  
  
'Look, I'm sorry I was late today'.  
  
 He turns, apologising, but stops abruptly.  
  
Seunghyun looks different. Terrible, even. Jiyong balks at the sight of him. Seunghyun has his hand pressed over his mouth so tightly, the skin around his fingers has gone pale. He is staring at the floor with his shoulders hunched. He's sick. That's what Jiyong thinks at first. The way he's standing there like he's about to throw up? He's just sick. He isn't angry. It's almost a relief.  
  
‘Jesus, are you okay?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer. He doesn't do anything.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what to do except get him a glass of water or point him to the toilet but Seunghyun already knows where that is. He should head that way but he doesn't. He doesn't move. If he was sick, he would do that, wouldn't he? He would run down the hallway, but he’s just standing there. Jiyong feels childish. He doesn't know what to do. This is an unexpected crisis. Seunghyun didn't eat much at lunch, he remembers. He pushed food around his plate trying to hide a lack of appetite. He didn't think much of it at the time. Seunghyun wasn't hungry, that happens.  
  
'Why didn't you say anything?' he asks. 'If you were sick, why didn't you call and cancel?'  
  
He moves to take Seunghyun's arm and sit him down somewhere but the second he moves forward, Seunghyun steps back.  
  
No. Seunghyun isn't sick. It's something else.  
  
Someone has died. Seunghyun has that look about him. It would be like him to walk around as though nothing had happened until he couldn't any more. Someone is dead, they have to be. Jiyong knows a lot of Seunghyun's family and friends, not intimately but enough that he recoils from the possibility that someone he knows has died. He's never known anyone who's died before except Daul and he didn't really know her, only a little. This is different. He wants to ask who but he doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to comfort somebody after something so bad or if he should say anything at all. Maybe the best thing is to listen or say nothing, so he thinks better safe than sorry and doesn't say a word. Instead, he waits for a sign, for an opening, for some hint what to do next.  
  
When Seunghyun raises his head long enough for Jiyong to see his face properly, he knows no-one has died. After five years together, he knows Seunghyun well enough to see the obvious. He is upset about something, but it’s not that. So, what is it? It doesn't make any sense to be fine one moment and not the next. Seunghyun was okay at lunch. Quiet but okay. He said _I love you_ in that way they both say it. He was talking, though not much. What happened between there and here? What happened in those twenty-five minutes that he can suddenly look so sad, and not just sad but broken? Seunghyun suddenly seems less than. A mortal. Something frail and weak and human.  
  
He waits for this sudden wave of emotion to pass over, for Seunghyun to right himself and explain what's happened but he doesn't do that. If anything, it only gets worse. Out of nowhere, this sadness takes Seunghyun over until it's all Jiyong can see when he looks at him; these pieces of him that don't quite fit together any more. He becomes a stranger intruding on a private moment, on Seunghyun in a moment of weakness. The kind of weakness you don't show anybody, least of all the people you love. It's awful.  
  
It is like seeing him for the first time, not the man he has spent the last few years with but another Seunghyun, one who is desperate and miserable, knees buckling under the weight of some invisible burden. The sight makes Jiyong ill. It reminds him of infrequent times past when Seunghyun would retreat and fall apart for reasons he couldn't fix; times Seunghyun was fine right up until he wasn't. This must be one of those--- one of those episodes he has every now and then, where some big bad thing he has kept secreted away suddenly catches up with him. Then Seunghyun shoots him this look. This brief, inadvertent look and Jiyong gets it.  
  
He remembers things. A dozen moments and individually meaningless things that when pieced together, make sense in the broader picture. Seunghyun's growing fatigue, his increasingly lazy excuses for not wanting to go out, for not wanting to hit the clubs or restaurants at night; his long silences and extra glasses of wine. For the past few months every time he mentioned their future, Seunghyun would change the subject, like the future was irrelevant, like he wasn't going to be there for it, so why talk about it.  
  
He was doing that because they didn't have a future together.  
  
He's breaking up with me, Jiyong thinks.  
  
He remembers Seunghyun's enforced silence on the stairs, when he was talking about the future, about holidays and shared breaks. Jiyong thinks back on a hundred instances in the last few weeks when he has caught Seunghyun looking at him in this way--- this strange lonely way he couldn't figure out until now. Seunghyun has been thinking about this for a while and now he's doing it. He's ending things. After years together, he is breaking things off.  
  
Jiyong feels a flush of panic and anger because even now, even thinking about the dozen signs and all the moments he can retrospectively interpret as Seunghyun distancing himself, preparing to get out--- it doesn't make sense. Seunghyun loves him. He knows that as sure as he knows there are two eyes in his head and ten fingers on his two hands. They have been together for too long, seen and done and felt too many things together for him to believe Seunghyun doesn't. So, what is it? Why does he have this look on his face? Why is he about to do the unthinkable?  
  
'No,' Jiyong says, carefully. _'No'._  
  
Seunghyun can't leave. He doesn't know what to do without him. He doesn't know how to be a complete person without him. Seunghyun, for all his faults, is half of his perfect life. For now at least, he is part of the grand plan. Without any conscious thought, Jiyong relives a dozen memories. He sees Seunghyun swearing at the television; sees him swinging around on the bar-stools in the kitchen; wiping the sleep from his eyes after just waking up. He hears a thousand _I love you's_ , sees a hundred kisses, a hundred hugs, a hundred moments when he prayed things were easier, that two men could be together openly; that he could live comfortably and be happy and for that to be alright. He remembers these things as they disappear, because the real Seunghyun, the one standing in front of him now with shaking fingers and limp hair is leaching out into every corner of the apartment, replacing all his happy memories with this single moment.  
  
‘What did I do?' Jiyong asks pre-emptively. 'Why are you doing this?'  
  
_Haven't we been happy?_  
  
He steps forward and grabs Seunghyun's shirt. He wants to comfort him and confront him in equal parts. He wants to remind Seunghyun, hello? I'm here. Their relationship goes two ways, I'm supposed to shoulder your burdens. What the fuck is going on? I can help. Let me help you. Something has happened and Seunghyun thinks it will be easier if deals with it on his own, and it won't be, Jiyong knows. Seunghyun is better off with him, just like he's better off with Seunghyun. If he can just understand what's happening, he can change Seunghyun's mind somehow. He can fix whatever has happened or try to anyway. There isn't anything they can’t fix together. Seunghyun is supposed to know that.  
  
He drops his head on Seunghyun's shoulder and holds his shirt so tightly he might rip it.  
  
Don't you dare break up with me. Don't you dare.  
  
Seunghyun quietly, monosyllabically, manages to apologise and that’s all the confirmation Jiyong needs. He's getting out. Seunghyun has dumped him without a word and Jiyong's understood-- ironically, because he loves him and would know this face, anywhere, any time.  
  
Fuck this, he thinks. Fuck you. No.  
  
They stand for a while, unmoving, Seunghyun lost in his own head, lost in his own world; a world where it makes sense to dump your partner of four, maybe five years because you want to struggle on alone; because some big bad thing has made ending their relationship feel like a way out of a problem. Eventually, he snaps out of it; out of his silence and his misery and the way his body seems to fold in on itself. He lifts his head and takes a breath. His mouth falls into an easy smile. He looks down at Jiyong with this apologetic face and says, 'I'm tired'.  
  
And through that smile Jiyong interprets those words in every way but the one he wants so desperately to hear them. I'm tired, let’s go to bed. It isn't that. He has a feeling Seunghyun wants it to seem that way, but to Jiyong he's saying 'I'm tired. Can't do it any more,' It being everything Jiyong loves and cares about and relies upon. It being their life together, it being everything. Can't do it anymore.  
  
'Don't you dare,' Jiyong says quietly. 'Don't you dare break up with me'.  
  
Just talk to me.  
  
While he's trying to find the words to reassure him, to reason with him, to knock this idea from his head, Seunghyun kisses him. The way he did the very first time they kissed, and just like then Jiyong doesn't kiss him back, too startled, too worried. In his mind, an influx of emotions bowl him over, begging him to kiss Seunghyun back because this could be it.  
  
But he doesn't, he can't.  
  
Seunghyun is his and he has been for so long, it can't be real that he can be here one day and not the next. That he can feel Seunghyun's lips on his own, smell his cologne, feel the muscles in his arms when he holds him too tightly one day and not the next. They can't have a last kiss. It doesn't work like that. There are no lasts.  
  
Seunghyun cups his face between his palms and looks at him with imploring eyes that say, 'please, just this once, I need you to kiss me back ---' and Jiyong shuts his eyes, pained.  
  
Don't do this.  
  
When Seunghyun's lips touch his a second time, Jiyong does kiss him back, with both hands behind Seunghyun's neck and their bodies pressed together.  
  
Why now? Why today? Why this exact moment?  
  
No, no, no, no, no.  
  
Jiyong kisses him like he's never going to see him again and when Seunghyun finally pulls away, he presses their foreheads together and says, _'I love you'_ in that deep comforting voice of his and Jiyong really believes him.  
  
You're not supposed to break up with people you love.  
  
Still.  
  
Whatever this is. It will be okay. Go home. Regroup. I can fix it. I’ll fix this.  
  
He wipes his face, his fingers coming away wet, equal parts anger and frustration and misery. He stares at the floor because he can't do anything else, because he's so shocked and hurt, he doesn't have it in him to convince Seunghyun to stay and talk to him, to explain himself. Not right now. It all happens too quickly. He is caught off guard.  
  
Seunghyun kisses the side of his head and heads for the door.  
  
Just like that.  
  
They were having lunch and then---  
  
Jiyong can feel the convulsions, choked down sobs rising up from within. He thinks about Seunghyun in the restaurant, turning to him with a faint tired smile, and maybe that was it. After that moment, they were never not--- broken up.  
  
Seunghyun smiles a stupid smile, says, 'I'll see you tomorrow' and then he's gone.  
  
Just like that.  


  
* * *  


  
  
When tomorrow comes and Seunghyun doesn't show, when he doesn't pick up the phone, when he doesn't answer the door or his cell phone, Jiyong tells himself there's nothing wrong. If he goes home and occupies his thoughts with something else then eventually Seunghyun will call him or knock on the door and all of his worries and fears will have been for nothing.  
  
He never said, 'I'm leaving,' or, 'I'm breaking up with you'. So what if Jiyong saw it on his face? Maybe he can't read Seunghyun as well as he thought. Maybe he got it wrong. Maybe that whole episode was something else entirely. He seemed sad, he kissed him, he said 'I'll see you tomorrow'.  
  
That wasn't a break-up. No matter what Jiyong knew or thought or felt at the time, that wasn't a break-up.  


  
* * *

  
  
  
When he wakes the next morning and there's no message on the answering machine, no answer of Seunghyun's phone. When there's no note slid under the door, the full weight of his fears and imagination grips him. He phones Seungri on a whim, thinking maybe he knows where Seunghyun is and what's happened to him. He isn't sure why he thinks so. He doesn't know how often the two of them talk. He might have better luck calling the owner of Seunghyun's favourite wine bar. When Seungri answers the phone, Jiyong sinks to the floor.  
  
He knows something. It is in his voice.  
  
Seungri speaks slowly and measured. Somehow, he was waiting for Jiyong's call. Or maybe not his call specifically, but for someone’s call. Someone trying to find out where Seunghyun had disappeared to.  
  
'Where is he?'  
  
'Japan,' Seungri answers, not unsympathetic. 'He told me not to tell you'.  
  
It takes Jiyong a minute to understand that and when he answers unthinking, he notes how unsurprised he sounds. 'Why is he in Japan?' like Japan is the market down the street from Seunghyun's house or a haunt in the city where he goes to get away. A coffee in a quiet cafe, ignoring hushed whispers. Something small like that. After all, that's the sort of thing he does. Seunghyun's private way of unburdening himself of stress is to become somebody else. He will go for a walk or see a movie on his own. He'll wrap a scarf around his face, put on a pair of jeans and move around Seoul like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Once, he came home with a smile on his face after disappearing for hours. When Jiyong finally pried out of him where he'd been, he said 'McDonalds'. His idea of being reckless and spontaneous was to walk into a McDonalds in the city and order himself some fries.  
  
Jiyong always found that funny and this? This feels like that. Seunghyun's gone off on another adventure that he can laugh about later. When Seunghyun comes back, he'll listen to his sad story and tease him about the particulars.  
  
'When is he coming back?' Jiyong asks, voice unnaturally airy. He feels his heart beat violently in his chest while he waits for Seungri to laugh brusquely and say, 'who knows, you know how he is,' but it never comes.  
  
'I don't know if he's coming back'.  
  
Oh, Jiyong thinks.  
  
Okay.  
  
Seunghyun is gone, somehow. He packed his bags and left, return date: unspecified, explanation: not given. Seunghyun is gone and it's obvious to Jiyong in the pauses and the tone of his voice that Seungri is hurt somehow by Seunghyun's sudden emigration. He allows himself to forget about his own confusion and pain for a moment.  
  
‘Are you alright?'  
  
Seungri laughs, not to be hurtful but out of disbelief.  
  
'Yeah, I'll be fine,' he answers.  
  
There's something in his voice, his response a question in of itself---'Will you?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer. Instead, he asks how Seunghyun looked when Seungri saw him last, the exact words he used when he left. Seungri tries to soften the blow with careful timing and gentle assurances but the damage is done.  
  
Seunghyun didn't see anyone before he left. He called Seungri from the airport and said he was going away, he didn't want anyone to follow him, least of all Jiyong. He had to go away for reasons he left unsaid, no explanation, only he had to. If their years of friendship meant anything, nobody would ask questions. They'd respect his desire to be left alone.  
  
And that was it.  
  
Seunghyun wanted to be alone so he was going to be alone.  
  
Just like that.  
  
In the lead-up he'd made plans for lunch and to go out on the weekend, he booked time in the studio's and said 'I'll see you tomorrow / next week / on Thursday' to everyone he passed and then he hopped in a cab to the airport and he was gone. It wasn't a little adventure into normalcy, this was Seunghyun going on one last adventure and leaving everyone else behind.  
  
He just left.  
  
Unexpected.  
  
It isn't until Seungri hangs up and Jiyong swallows the reality that Seunghyun kissed him goodbye, said 'see you tomorrow' and then left the country without an explanation or a second thought, that he realises how much of himself belongs to Seunghyun. He has given everything he has to him. Everything he is. Without Seunghyun, there isn't enough of himself left to function on its own.  
  
He is only half aware of his own actions, navigating by some far-removed part of his brain that isn't stifled and suffocated by the weight of his hurt and his stress. Some small part of him still functions logically and before he knows it, the phone is pressed to his ear.  
  
He hears the catch of someone picking up.  
  
Some part of his brain expects Seunghyun's low _'mmm?_ ' to echo in his ears but before the other person can even say a word, Jiyong's voice is tearing out of him in a desperate plea for help.  
  
'Mom?'

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

  
  
  
‘ _This is Seunghyun, I can't answer the phone right now. Leave a message. I'll get back to you’._  
  
Jiyong clutches the phone so tightly in his hand it leaves an imprint on his palm. The clamour of plastic skipping across the counter has stopped ringing in his ears but he can hear it still, rattling down his spine. The click of the answering machine goes and there's a quiet, a void to be filled with the kind of messages he used to leave. _'Sorry I missed you, I guess I'll talk to you later,'_ or, _'buy some juice on the way over, I've got a craving'_.  
  
Seunghyun hated those messages the most. He would time them so his calls would go through when Seunghyun couldn't answer the phone. That way, his extortionate requests couldn't be shot down.  
  
The memories make him ill.  
  
He looks at the screen of the phone in his hand. His fingers shake. He holds them against his stomach to try and still them. Seunghyun's face sits in a tiny box in the corner above a slowly increasing number.  
  
Call Length - 00:00:17, 00:00:18, 00:00:19 --- 20, 21, _22_.  
  
_Hang up._  
  
Jiyong places the phone on the counter like it's a precious stone; a valuable and fragile thing. He sits it next to Seunghyun's phone, moved from its original position, now sitting at an angle, hovering precariously near the edge where the vibrate setting carried it.  
  
He drove to Seunghyun's apartment in fitful desperation, to have a look around. He had to see for himself the disaster he imagined he'd find. The apartment would be a mess with things flung and thrown and broken haphazardly to mark a passionate slew of emotion. The kind that led people to pack up and emigrate without a second thought. That or something worse. Maybe, the apartment would be empty. His key card wouldn't work or it would and the door would open to an empty space divested completely of Seunghyun's existence and his own along with it. His furniture gone, his life packed up and shipped off to wherever he was going. Maybe there would be a cardboard box in an empty lounge with Seunghyun's familiar scrawl up the side reading _'Jiyong_ '. It would be full of all the clothes, all the books, the CD's, his toothbrush-- everything he'd ever left there.  
  
He took a cowing breath when he keyed in the pass code for access to Seunghyun's building and another when his card worked without a fight. He didn't expect much. He pushed open the door and instead of finding disarray or emptiness, it was familiar. It was comforting. Seunghyun's apartment looked the way it always did. It was so unchanged that for a moment Jiyong let himself believe the past few days had been a dream. It was easy to believe, walking into that room, that everything was okay. He'd throw his feet up on the coffee table or stumble into Seunghyun's bedroom like a zombie, fast asleep the second his head hit the pillow. It was _easy._ Seunghyun's unchanged apartment was a comfort. It gave him hope. He put his bag down where he stood and moved through every room like he was a potential buyer looking for a new place to live. The bathroom still had towels on the racks and toiletries in the cupboard. There were unopened soaps below the sink and toilet paper by the wall. His toothbrush was gone but Jiyong always thought it would be. His own toothbrush was there in a porcelain cup on its own. That made him feel miserably alone.  
  
Seunghyun's bedroom was tidy but ordinary. The bed was made but not very well, the way Seunghyun always did it. There was a shirt laid out on the quilt and a pair of shoes by the door. His cupboard was full of clothes, the floor held down by every kind of dress-shoe and sneaker he had ever laid eyes on. The cabinet behind his suit-jackets still had most of his ties and watches and rings. Seunghyun had packed light.  
  
Jiyong absorbed every small detail, catalogued everything he recognised was there and everything that wasn't. He went up and down Seunghyun's apartment looking for clues and maybe just a little consolation that if all his things were still there, he was going to come back for them sooner rather than later.  
  
Before he left the bedroom, he felt a compulsion to do what he always did on lazy mornings. He made Seunghyun's bed the way his mother taught him to when he was young. He smoothed out the creases, fluffed the pillows and straightened the fitted sheet. He put Seunghyun's shoes back in the cupboard and hung the shirt he'd left up with the others. It made him feel better to do something.  
  
He stopped in the kitchen. He hadn't thought about it before but that would tell, wouldn't it, how long Seunghyun was planning to be away? If there was food in the cupboards and in the fridge, he'd be back soon. So, Jiyong opened the fridge with his eyes closed and told himself everything in the apartment meant something. He had hardly taken anything with him to Japan. There would be food in the fridge. Seunghyun was coming home any day now. But the fridge was empty. There wasn't a single thing inside. The light didn't come on and Jiyong realised the power inside the apartment was off. He hadn't noticed the light of the microwave was off either. He opened the cupboards without closing the refrigerator door and the only signs of life left in the pantry were a few cans of food and some salt. Seunghyun cleaned the place out before he left.  
  
So when was he coming home? All his things were there. He had to come back for them. Seunghyun was used to a certain way of living, to his creature comforts. He couldn't go long without them. But he had cleaned out his cupboards? He threw away things that would have lasted another year and then some. Why would he do that if he was planning on coming back? And that was the word that mattered. _Planning_. Because that was what Seunghyun had done. He had planned it. Every second that Jiyong had spent in the apartment, looking for signs that Seunghyun was on a short break only, that he would see him again in a week and all would be forgiven-- all that time he knew Seunghyun wasn't coming back. He knew because he had been told.  
  
He had gone to the meeting at work that morning with his brave face on, half expecting Seunghyun to be there. Parked in the underground car park, he sat there with his seatbelt on for twenty-five minutes trying to work up the courage to go inside. He was afraid that if he went in alone and sat down at the table, everyone around him would tell him things he didn't want to hear about Seunghyun. And they did. There was no part of the meeting, from when Yang first entered and kicked it off, to the last five minutes when Jiyong could say a word, let alone ask a question. He sat there patiently, scratching mindlessly at the back of his wrist, waiting for Seunghyun’s name to breeze across the table like a shockwave, but it never did. That drove him crazy. Seunghyun was gone and apparently everyone knew but no-one was saying a word. No-one was rallying the troops to try and get him back or figure out what happened to him. Seunghyun had a contract. He couldn't go traipsing around Japan indefinitely. He had responsibilities. Someone had to care.  
  
It wasn't until Yang stood up, straightened the papers on the desk and picked up his phone that Jiyong stood up with him. He stood up so fast he knocked his knee on the table and cursed during a lull in conversation. Teeming with stress and anxiety, he could feel himself physically shaking and hoped nobody else could see it. Some people turned at his exclamation but he apologised. He lowered his voice and asked Yang, 'what about Seunghyun?' --- and Yang looked confused. For a horrible moment Jiyong thought he must not know. Seungri made a mistake, the company didn't know Seunghyun had run off and he was filled with the burden of having to break the news or, even worse, trying to explain what had happened to him.  
  
'What about him?' Yang asked.  
  
A noise escaped Jiyong's throat, of shock and hurt and feelings he couldn't begin to sort out in the time allowed.  
  
'Well, he's gone? Right?'  
  
Yang motioned with his finger to 'come hither,' and Jiyong walked with him to the door and out into the hall. Yang kept his eyes on the phone in his hand, power-walking to the elevator.  
  
'He'll do fine with YGEX, there's no trouble there. Don't worry about him. He'll send work over when he has it'.  
  
'Oh'.  
  
'Dutiful leader to the end!' Yang jested, slapping him on the shoulder. 'We'll see how productive he is. If he can work on something over there, he can stay indefinitely. Or until it's time for Big Bang to come back. You don't need to worry about it'.  
  
Jiyong didn't answer.  
  
In the time it took to get from one end of the hallway to the other, Yang had told him everything he needed to know. He corroborated everything Seungri told him over their last phone call. Everyone knew Seunghyun was gone. Seunghyun must have been readying to leave for weeks before he actually did it. He must have had meetings with staff and Yang and who knows how many people it took to get permission for him to leave like this. What was worse, Yang was under the impression that he knew, Seungri knew, everybody knew about his plan to jet off to Japan beforehand. Seunghyun lied to everybody and covered his tracks. Out of loyalty, Jiyong didn't say otherwise.  
  
He wondered how Yang would react if he told him the truth. That Seunghyun hadn't spoken to any of them about his decision to allegedly work in Japan. He didn't get permission to go. He simply ran away. He imagined Yang would drag him back kicking and screaming and part of Jiyong wanted that.

 

  
* *

On his own again, Jiyong reached his car, did his seatbelt up and hit the steering wheel with balled up fists. Seunghyun left without saying a word and everybody knew about it except him. So, he drove to Seunghyun's apartment because he needed to know, he needed concrete proof that what was happening was _real._  
  
Fridge empty, cupboard empty, power off.  
  
He ambled over to the couch and flopped down on the leather seat, powerless, slouching until he was almost vertical with his knees touching the coffee table two feet away.  
  
_Why did he leave?_  
  
It didn't make any sense. He had to believe, _wanted_ to believe that not even Seunghyun could do something like this. To hit some kind of inner wall and need suddenly to get away, Jiyong could understand that. He thought in his heart that's what Seunghyun had done, but this? He prepared. He logically and rationally prepared to leave. He made arrangements for himself and Jiyong didn't fit into those plans.  
  
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket with considerable effort and dialled Seunghyun's number for what seemed like the hundredth time. He didn't expect him to answer but he didn't know what else to do. After the first ring, a sound erupted from the kitchen, so loud and jarring that Jiyong slid off the lounge and hit the carpet in surprise. After the initial shock, he knew exactly what it was.  
  
When he reached the kitchen, there it was.  
  
Seunghyun's phone.  
  
It was just sitting there, vibrating its way across the counter. The charger a hands width away, left behind like a goodbye note.  
  
Seunghyun left his phone behind.  
  
He was in the kitchen earlier and didn't even see it.

  
  
*

He swallows down the biting ache in his throat, the lump that seems always to be there and picks Seunghyun's phone off the counter. He slides his thumb across the screen and a battery symbol flashes red for three seconds and the home screen lights up.  
  
The battery is almost dead.  
  
Jiyong’s heart skips a beat and he panics. He plugs the charger into the wall and the phone thereafter. The five minutes that follow, frantically spent trying to figure out how to turn the power back on, feels like hours; Something comparable to the first time he went on stage. It’s inexplicable. The relief he feels when he hears the simultaneous sounds of the TV lurching into standby mode, the microwave beeping to signal its renewed life, even the refrigerator groaning into action is profound. He clutches Seunghyun's phone like his life depends on it.  
  
He has this childish fear that if the phone dies, if it powers down, that is Seunghyun cut off from him forever. Maybe he won't be able to get inside again.  
  
It's all he has left.  
  
He takes off his jacket and pulls himself onto the counter, with his legs hanging past the drawers. His heels knock against them. He wipes the screen on his pants and sees the words, _'27 missed calls'._  
  
He hits 'ok' and the message changes to _'Voicemail : 22'._  
  
He feels such a heavy weight, such a disparate sadness that he laughs. How many of these voicemails did he leave himself?  
  
In the end, fourteen of them.  
  
He hits playback and brings Seunghyun's phone to his ear. An automated voice, different to the one on his own phone begins and between a few messages by other people, he hears himself over and over again.

   
'Message received Sunday. 18th August. 8:45pm.'

 **'Hyung. Did you---** _are we?_ Call me, please'.

'Message received Monday. 19th August. 7:45am.'  
  
**'You didn't call me back. A text will do,'** his own voice on the phone pauses. **'I just need to know what's going on. Please---'** He sounds frantic, worried sick but also embarrassed and Jiyong remembers leaving that message like he only just said the words. These are the messages he left on Seunghyun's phone after he left his apartment. After he said, _'see you tomorrow'_ with that look on his face like the world had ended.

'Message received Tuesday. 20th August. 10:04am _'_

**'I told myself I'd never be the person who leaves infinite messages on someone else's voicemail but I guess I'm that guy now. I need you to tell me you're okay and, you know, if you broke up with me, if you don't want to be with me anymore, fine. But talk to me. It's been two days and I'm going out of my mind. You never disappear like this. I just want to know that you're okay. Don't be an asshole. I've called you twenty times.'**

'Message received Tuesday. 20th August. 04:39pm'  
  
**'I'll call your mother, I'll call your sister, I'll call your grandmother. I'll call every single person you know asking about you if I have to. Please don't make me do that. You've never done this before Seunghyun, not answered your phone for this long? Even when you ran away you still answered my calls. Nobody else's but mine. You always told me where you were. Why aren't you calling me back?'**  
  
And it was true that Seunghyun always called.  
  
Always.  
  
Before they fell into their relationship, when they were only just friends, Seunghyun felt some kind of obligation towards Jiyong, who tried to mother him so much, always to reassure him that he was safe. Yeah, he'd get sick of his attention and fly off the handle and disappear but as soon as Jiyong found the fortitude to send a worried, 'Where are you, are you ok?' txt, he'd _reply._ Whether it was informative or a brief 'I'm fine'. There was always _something._  
  
That didn't change when they started dating. Despite practically living together in Seunghyun's apartment or Jiyong's after months, they still led independent lives. They didn't smother each other. If they needed a few days, they only had to say so. It's how they stayed together, how their naive and risky fling turned into something more, something sustainable.  
  
Seunghyun would always txt and so would Jiyong. Short words, monosyllables on the phone. They cut their communication down to pre-speech and it was perfect. They were so in synch, Seunghyun could grunt on the phone and Jiyong would know what it meant. Jiyong could huff and Seunghyun would reply as though Jiyong had asked a question or said something meaningful because he understood. They just … lived. Together and separate but always connected that little bit. If they were apart, they were still aware of where the other was and what they were doing. The invisible thread that tied them together. It mattered.  
  
That Seunghyun had snapped and had some outpouring of emotion in Jiyong's apartment, and looked at him that way, like he was going to walk out in front of a car, that sort of thing needed reassurance. The kind Jiyong sought through all these messages, every txt and voicemail forever answered, no matter the situation, no matter how bad, _always answered._  
  
Until now.

'Message received Tuesday. 20th August. 11:56pm'  
  
He was crying this time.  
  
**'What are you doing? Where are you? You haven't been home in two days, you won't call me, you won't even txt me? Where are you?'** and then a long pause and a quiet but desperate **'… _stop this!'_**

'Message received Wednesday. 21st August. 02:14pm'  
  
Jiyong braces himself for the next one, unsure of what it was exactly he'd managed to say, only that the next message was after Seungri, after he found out where Seunghyun had gone. He'd spent so long on the phone to his mother crying wordlessly into the speaker, those murmurs were confused with what he might have said to Seunghyun.  
  
There isn't anything really. The line opens with a sniff and then a pause, then a scoff. _Bitter_. And then Jiyong's quiet voice, confused like a child, so warped that listening to it back makes him uncomfortable.  
  
**_'How could you?'_**

'Message received Wednesday. 21st August. 08:43pm'  
  
Jiyong shuts his eyes at his own vitriolic laughter. He remembers this message too. From the first second, he remembers. He's taken back. He broke a dozen plates and cut himself when he tried to clean it all up. The band-aid is on his foot still, with some childish pattern on them. They were Seunghyun's.  
  
**'You don't even speak Japanese? Why the fuck are you in Japan, you piece of shit?** And then a pause and a hoarse, belted out **_Fuck!'_** At the top of his lungs.

  
'Message received Thursday. 22nd August. 2:04pm'  
  
Calm. Centred.  
  
**'I went to Myeongdong today for lunch. I sat at our table and the ajumma asked where you were and I said I didn't know. She put your food out for you because she thought I meant you were running late or something, not that you'd fled the country. She felt sorry for me.** He paused. **_I_ feel sorry for me. I want to feel sorry for you too because there must be a reason you've done this but I don't'.**

'Message received Thursday. 22nd August. 03:58pm '  
  
**'That meeting is tomorrow. I tried to ring Yang but his secretary kept telling me to wait until the meeting. He's busy, I guess. I wonder what they're going to say. I half expect you to be there when I walk into the room'.**

'Message received Thursday. 22nd August. 08:17pm'  
  
After that he'd had a few hours of reasonable calm. He dusted himself off. He tried writing something, a chorus or a bridge, he couldn't decide. **'How does this sound?'** He asked through the speaker. He was humming a tune. ' **Good, right? I don't know if the beat should go high or low?'** He muttered his way through a little rap to the tune, both ways, high and low – **‘but I guess you can’t tell me’.**

'Message received Friday. 23rd August. 01:52am'  
  
This is where Jiyong, the _real_ Jiyong in the uncomfortable present in Seunghyun's kitchen, listening to his past upheaval, starts to fall apart. **'It's 2am here. I guess it's 2am there as well. I just wanted to say goodnight. I love you'.**

  
'Message received Friday. 23rd August. 04:40am'.  
  
**'I can't sleep'.**

'Message received Friday. 23rd August. 03:12pm'  
  
He was crying now, like he hadn't cried before, not in a long time. Not since his first scandal had he cried the way he was then, half into his arm, half into the phone. He'd been sitting in his car at the YG building, after the meeting, after seeing Yang in the hallway. He was dead tired and felt hopelessly alone. His car felt safe.  
  
**'You're not coming back? You arranged this whole thing? I mean, what? You're just working in Japan now? What about the rest of us? What about me? How could you do this, Seunghyun? You planned this? What about me?** He repeated hoarsely. **What about me? I need you! Who do I have now? You promised me you would never ----'** there's a pause, so long Jiyong worries the message was cut short but then his own voice, devoid of all that rage and emotion says, **'I don't want to be on my own'.**

'Message received Friday. 23rd August. 04:04pm'.   
  
**'This isn't happening'.**  
  
This isn't happening.

The automated voice speaks again. Something new.

_ / end of messages. To play back, press 1. To delete, press 2. _

  
Jiyong puts the phone back where he found it, back where the charger is keeping it alive, keeping his link to Seunghyun tangible. He didn't get a single one. Not one message he left him.  
  
Seunghyun left the apartment, said ' _see you tomorrow',_ went home, packed his bags and left his phone behind. He planned it all. He is unreachable for the first time in their relationship, since they met for the very first time and Jiyong called him a prick when they were teenagers. He's as far away as he can get.  
  
Seunghyun is gone.  
  
Now, it doesn't matter why he left, whether it was Jiyong or something else in his life. It doesn't matter because he's gone and there's no way to reach him anyway. No way to help him if he's in trouble. No way to hate him if he isn't.  
  
Seunghyun is gone.  
  
It seems unreal that in the space of six days, his life could unravel so completely. That after only two days of unanswered calls, he could cry into his cell phone out of worry or fear or an admixture of the two. That after one look on Seunghyun's face he somehow knew all of this was coming. Knew Seunghyun was going to do something stupid and that he would be left behind. He tried to think logically and rationally that Seunghyun would come back in a week or two, that he was just being dramatic about something. He needed a brief sojourn on his own and then everything would settle down.  
  
Now, he knows better.  
  
He sits on Seunghyun's bench-top, silent and perfectly still and only when the phone beside him beeps to signal it's fully charged does he move an inch. He slides the phone and charger alike into his backpack, locks the door behind him, gets back in his car and starts driving.  
  
He's going home.  
  
He needs to go _home_.  
  
He calls his mother on speaker but can't find the will to seem better or sad or angry or anything at all. He just says the words he needs to say, emotionless, ' _I'm coming home. Leave the key out',_ and that's it.  
  
Without first going home to his apartment to change, to pack a bag, to grab anything to take along with him, he drives with whatever he has on him, refusing to think about anything but the road, the tail-lights of the car in front of him, the light rain on the windscreen. He drives, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly he can hardly feel them.  
  
Home.  
  
Home is safe. Home is where, growing up, he learned to curb his outbursts, to control his emotions. If he can just get home, he can internalise this. If he can see his mother or his sister or his father, _anyone at all who knows me_ , he can swallow it down. He can be brave about this. It's not his first break up. He can find a way to be okay.  
  
Eventually, Seunghyun will come back and Jiyong will show him how okay he is. How self-sufficient and happy and successful he can be on his own. Seunghyun told him once that he had issues with attachment, that he was scared to be on his own. Jiyong had denied it. He had laughed it off.  
  
_I'll show him._


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

In his old bed, in his mother’s house, Jiyong dreams of Seunghyun. He feels Seunghyun's breath against his cheek and his lips against his eyelids the way he used to kiss him on lazy mornings. In his dream, Seunghyun is warm. His low voice tells him, ' _you don't have to wake up. It's okay,'_ so Jiyong stays asleep. He chooses Seunghyun's company, his light kisses and deep laughs. Jiyong chooses Seunghyun's fingers sliding over his skin and the curve of his thigh. Jiyong accommodates him.  
  
In his dream, Seunghyun smells of cologne and cigarettes and rain. He makes Jiyong's stomach tighten and his nerves fire. In his dream, Seunghyun fucks him and though he is blurry around the edges and only half there, it is vivid all the same. Jiyong's thighs tighten around Seunghyun's waist and his fingers press into his back. His hands trace the dip and curve of his shoulder-blades. He scratches at Seunghyun's skin. Real pleasure builds. He feels Seunghyun's body exactly as it is. Then it starts to go. The dream slips.  
  
As much as Jiyong tries to cling to this place where Seunghyun can touch him and _love_ him, the edges slip away regardless. The warmth dissipates. He can’t hold onto it.  
  
Seunghyun touches his cheek and kisses him.  
  
'Happy Birthday'.

 

 

*  
  
  


  
  
Jiyong lurches out of sleep like he's been forcibly pulled, as if a hand around his wrist has yanked his frozen body from a frigid lake. He is at home. He knows instantly. He remembers everything.  
  
He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and prays he didn't talk in his sleep. He's never done that before, but there's a first time for everything. A sex dream in his mother’s house is a poor occasion for a first time. The dream felt so beautifully real. He could _feel_ Seunghyun. He could feel the heat and the pleasure of being with him. Here in the real world, he is hard, and that makes him feel vaguely sick as he starts recalling bits and pieces. Suddenly, he hits the end and memories of Seunghyun's hands and lips disappear in favour of that voice in his head saying, _Happy Birthday._  
  
Jiyong tries to recall the date on his phone from the night before. The 23 rd? It was Friday which meant today was Saturday. He counts back until he reaches the 18th.  
  
_He left on my birthday._  
  
Jiyong begins to ache all over. He forgot his own fucking birthday and Seunghyun, who never forgot, didn't say a word _._ He just left and would have left _knowing_ that his birthday was in the middle of his plans to disappear. Jiyong had been so caught up in planning a holiday they could go on together _,_ some calm and quiet vacation where they could relax and have fun, he forgot the point of it all. They were going away for his birthday.  
  
Seunghyun's present seems like a joke now, that bottle of cologne still sitting in the bottom of his backpack. He was so excited to give it to him, he forgot what day it was. What sort of person forgets their own birthday? It must have been wilful ignorance that allowed him to miss all the calls and texts from every corner of the globe.  
  
_Happy Twenty-Seventh._  
  
When he first ordered Seunghyun's cologne, he knew the date was coming up. It was part of the plan. Seunghyun was going to do something ostentatious to celebrate his birthday the way he often did. And Jiyong was going to use the cologne in tandem with a getaway plan to turn his own birthday into something they could do together.  
  
Before they got together, Seunghyun would always amble into his room with a shy look on his face and say, 'Happy Birthday,' followed by a long admission of gratitude or friendship. _'I'm glad we ran into each-other all those years ago,_ ' or, ' _I would never have made it this far without you'._ It was his way of giving a personal gift without being publicly sentimental. He would simply say what he really felt.  
  
After they got together, when their relationship was still uncertain, Seunghyun upped the quality of gift-giving by 1000%. Jiyong had turned 23 and Seunghyun, with his backwards aging, had tried to rebel against their newfound maturity by blowing an extortionate amount of money on childlike fun. Jiyong spent his _actual_ birthday with friends and family in a rented-out club. He had a good time, drank too much, and the night ended with a drunken kiss from Seunghyun and a nap on the bathroom floor. He thought that was it.  
  
It wasn't. The next morning when he woke, Seunghyun was gone. The sheets were cold beside him. It was quiet and his head throbbed. He had a burgeoning hangover that could fell a herd of elephants. He didn't half expect to walk out of his bedroom into what he found. Even sober and ready for anything, he could not have been prepared for bears.  
  
When he opened the door he rebounded off something soft and stumbled back, almost keeling over from shock. A stuffed bear of life-size proportions loomed in through the doorway before tipping forwards onto his bedroom floor. He only narrowly escaped it. So, the first bear was a shock, but the second even more. There was a third and a fourth and a fifth. Sticking his head out the bedroom door, Jiyong cried out in dismay. From what he could see, Twenty-three life sized bears were clogging up the hallway with their enormous heads and cold, dark eyes.  
  
_'What the fuck?'_  
  
The unmistakable sound of Seunghyun’s quiet laughter had filtered down to him from the other side of the bear forest. Jiyong was filled with equal parts rage and awe that while he slept, Seunghyun had managed to pull this off.   
  
'How did you even _do_ this?’ He shouted. ‘Oh Jesus--- _Get them out!_ I have to take a piss and I’m trapped here’.  
  
‘Force your way through!'  
  
'How?' he snapped back. 'I have a hangover. I'm literally dying. I'm tired and sick and these things are terrifying. _Move_ them. I can't get to the bathroom'.  
  
Seunghyun shouted back, 'You’re ungrateful. Now you're on your own'.  
  
Jiyong thought he could wait Seunghyun out but after five minutes and then ten, he hadn't answered any of Jiyong's increasingly pathetic calls for help. He really did have to take a piss and if Seunghyun wasn't going to help him, he'd have to shove his way through a mass of bears to get to the toilet. So, Jiyong stepped over the bear that had previously fallen into his bedroom. His heel dug into the fur and a tinny song started playing, the near illegible words of _'Happy Birthday'_ echoing out from the depths of its body.  
  
He paled in surprise and flung himself forward through his bedroom door into the arms of another bear, identical to the last. When he tried to shove past it, the same tinny tune started playing out of synch with the first.  
  
‘Oh God,' he groaned. 'I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life'.  
  
He shoved his way past that bear and into another and then another, only one of those piping up with the same shrill birthday music until he'd made it through half of them, cursing his way through the cacophony of birthday songs piercing through his eardrums. After that, he tripped on a furry leg and ended up on his hands and knees, with his face near the crotch of another giant bear. Jiyong thought if ever there was a time to stop drinking, it was now.  
  
Two minutes later he stumbled through the last of them, but not before falling into the final bear, knocking it flat on the floor with himself on top of it. He lifted his face slowly from the bears chest to meet the sound of childish laughter. Seunghyun stood over him with a hand over his eyes, laughing so hard his body had bowed forward.  
  
Jiyong wasn't sure what to do after that, cry or scream or laugh. Seunghyun took it out of his hands, popping a party hat on him. He pulled the string gently beneath Jiyong's scowling chin and said, _'Happy Birthday'_.  
  
Jiyong scrambled to his feet to give Seunghyun a piece of his mind and a broken nose, but when Seunghyun grabbed his wrist, sensing an impending meltdown, something in Jiyong softened and he laughed instead. Seunghyun kissed him on the forehead, then the lips, and Jiyong told him through frayed nerves and sheer confusion that he loved him _'I guess'._  
  
'Why did you do this? This doesn't make any sense. You're demented'.  
  
After that, Jiyong pissed and showered and finagled his way into having sex in the bear forest, which Seunghyun hated every second of. ' _They're touching me. I'm being mounted,'_ Which made that the most insane and memorable birthday Jiyong had ever had.  
  
When Seunghyun's birthday rolled around three months later, Jiyong had been so busy and stressed with work, he hadn't prepared a thing. He showed up on Seunghyun's doorstep with teary eyes and a bag of take-out, blubbering, _'I'm sorry, I haven't done anything for your birthday!'_  
  
Their birthdays always followed a similar pattern. Seunghyun always outdid himself and Jiyong always fell short, so he wanted it to be different this year. He thought maybe Seunghyun would pull something crazy again, so he'd spent weeks trying to choose the perfect vacation they could go on together. If Seunghyun did something extravagant for his birthday, Jiyong was going to flip the table on him and do something crazy right back.  
  
_Was._  
  
It got away from him. He lost sight of what all that planning and research was for and the stress and worry prevented him from actually booking any flights or hotels, until he'd planned to hand Seunghyun the cologne and admit the whole fiasco, demanding he choose a place himself, ' _anywhere you want to go!_ '  
  
It became 'Vacation, getaway, quality time'.  
  
His birthday skipped his mind completely.  
  
Seunghyun, the same person who spent ₩24,000,000 filling his apartment with bears they later gifted to charity in twelve trips to the charity warehouse and back, chose _that_ day to leave him.  
  
His birthday of _all_ days.  
  
He hadn't realised. His phone had rung more than usual that day but he never answered it. The answering machine must be overflowing with birthday messages. People stared at him when he went into work but no-one approached him, no-one offered a belated, _'Happy Birthday!'_ He must have seemed more than usually unapproachable.  
  
He feels like shit. More than he did when Seunghyun first left, more than he did finding Seunghyun's phone in his apartment, more than he did realising that Seunghyun had _planned_ to get away. This is so far removed from the Seunghyun he knows, he doesn't know what to do or how to feel. Seunghyun loves him, Jiyong knows that. Even if he did leave, there is no doubt in his mind that all the years they spent together, all those ' _I love you's,'_ were real, so how could he do this? He isn't that kind of person.  
  
Jiyong feels sorry for himself and sorry for Seunghyun all over again because he can't imagine what made him do this.  
  
Tiredness takes him over.  
  
Sunlight leers through the curtains in strips that fall across his face. He turns his back to the window to get away from them. He puts Seunghyun, his birthday and the whole business to the back of his mind.  
  
There are birds outside, a few of them talk to each-other, unmoved by his problems. He keeps his eyes closed. He's been asleep for ten hours already but he could sleep another five, another six, another ten. He feels so physically tired, he can't remember having a less satisfying sleep. His father used to tell him the more you slept, the more tired you became. He always thought that was a joke. He had so few opportunities growing up to sleep in, he never got to test it.  
  
No better time than the present, he thinks.  
  
There's a faint rumble of traffic in the distance, muffled by the stretch of house between the street and his own bedroom. Every so often a distant beep or screech of tires on the road breaks through. He thinks of his childhood, growing up in the same room, hearing those same sounds. It feels like none of the time between then and now has elapsed. He's still eleven, still watching the TV in the corner of his room past his bed-time; still trying desperately to make it into YG but resentful of early mornings while his friends sleep soundly in their beds.  
  
He felt that way then. He would lay in bed with his blankets up around his chin, waiting for the sound of footsteps coming up the hall. His mother would knock on the door and enter to wake him. _'But I'm tired, I don't want to get up! I think I'm sick---'_ he'd say. 'It's your choice,' she would answer. 'If you don't want this life, then quit. Simple!'  
  
Simple.  
  
It didn't change the feeling of anxiety and resentment every morning when he heard those footsteps, that signalled his fate for god knows how long. Getting up early and working hard when he should have been playing, it wasn't easy, and made worse by the fact it wasn't temporary. It was forever. He had to work for this life and he would have to work hard forever.  
  
Jiyong waits unconsciously for the same footsteps now, with his face buried in the pillow almost pleading for one more minute, _just one more minute and I'll be able to face the day_.  
  
There aren't any footsteps though, no intrusion into his privacy, no calamitous exchange between himself and his mother. There's only the faint hum of traffic and the sound of birds outside his window. It's all peaceably normal.  
  
He manages to drift off again, unconsciously slipping into another sleep.

 

 

  
*  
  
  


  
  
It's warmer when he wakes the second time. The sun has moved overhead, no longer spilling in through the window but his room is humid and uncomfortable and he's going to have to get up whether he wants to or not. He feels the base rumblings of hunger in his stomach and thinks something to eat won't hurt. He hasn't been eating well.  
  
He rolls over and stretches his arms and legs out, a noise squeezing its way out of his chest as he does. His body feels heavy still, lethargic and slow. He wishes the room was air-conditioned so he could sleep the day away.  
  
He reaches under the blankets to straighten his boxers out and remembers the faint stirrings from earlier. Maybe getting off will help him wake him up. Maybe it will help him relax. Maybe it will help him face the barrage of questions he's sure to receive when he leaves his bedroom at long last. He tries to ignore the strangeness of jerking off in his childhood bedroom and tugs his boxers down. He takes himself in hand and closes his eyes. His skin is warm and moist from the heat. It feels good. It's a blissful distraction. With his thumb and his forefinger he pulls lightly up the shaft and tries to think of Seunghyun but he can't. His body revolts at the thought of him. He ends up thinking nothing at all, focussing on the simple feeling of his cock swelling in his hand.  
  
'Happy birthday,' he thinks facetiously.  
  
It's slow going, the pleasure is there but never the peak, he can't reach the build-up and becomes frustrated. He loses track of time. Eventually, there's a knock on the door.  
  
He jumps and pulls his hand back, making sure he’s completely covered. His heart beats faster in his chest, _waiting_. His mother’s voice filters through the wood, unsuspecting.  
  
'I've made some lunch if you're hungry. You can come out whenever you want to. I can put it in the fridge for later if you don't want any right now'.  
  
He worries for a moment that his mother might come in, the way she used to when he was a boy. He pulls his boxers up as quickly as he can, bracing himself for an uninvited walk-in but there isn’t one. He feels relieved and then guilty. He tries to calm his breathing and the pounding in his chest.  
  
'I'll come out in a few minutes,' he calls out. 'Thanks'.  
  
He doesn't finish what he was doing, he can't. He's lost the will. It doesn't take long for his erection to disappear. He cleans himself up in the bathroom and puts on the clothes he wore when he showed up the night before. When he walks into the open kitchen, his heart is racing. When he arrived the night before, he couldn't remember how he got there. He remembered leaving Seunghyun's apartment, and he knew that it rained at some point but he couldn't remember anything else. He was at Seunghyun's and then he was in the driveway of his parent’s house and his mother was undoing his seatbelt, pulling him out of the car.  
  
It was like he'd been asleep and woken up at his mother’s touch. She pulled him out of the car before he could do anything else. Under the sensor lights above the garage doors she pulled him into a hug that lasted _minutes_. Her face rested on his shoulder, only just, and he had to hug her back around her armpits. She was too short or he was too tall, he never really figured that one out.  
  
She must have been waiting, he realised later. After the call, she must have stayed in the front room, waiting for the light of his headlights to pan across the room as he pulled into the driveway. She must have been worried. He felt guilty then and put on a brave face, which wasn't hard because he wasn't thinking much of anything. He felt empty in a way he hadn't done before. She asked him what was wrong and he said it was nothing. He was tired. He needed a rest.  
  
She didn't harangue him or fuss, she just took him inside. She noticed he didn't have any bags and quietly let him retreat into his old bedroom. His father wasn't home, he was away with friends for the weekend at the Pension. It was just the two of them.  
  
Now she's standing there in the kitchen making them lunch, and Jiyong slips wordlessly into one of the seats around the table. He hasn't been home in a long time, not for a year or maybe two. Time gets away from him. He makes plans in his head to visit them, next week, next month but life keeps getting in the way and what he thinks is a week or a month turns into six months and then a year. He feels guilty.  
  
Seunghyun would ring his mother three times a week. He spent time with his sister when she was around and despite being the most solitary person Jiyong knew, kept a real closeness to his family. Through all of Seunghyun's late-night phone calls home, during which Jiyong would huff and puff, irritated at the shift of attention away from himself, it never occurred to him that he could use that time to do the same. He never thought of calling his own mother while Seunghyun was calling his. It was always, _'next week, next month_ '.  
  
Now that he's sitting in his old kitchen, he can't think what it is about the old table and chairs and his home in general that scares him so much. He feels this undercurrent of shame and humiliation every time he sees his parents or his sister. Every time he come home. He's afraid of what his parents think of him and his life, maybe, of harsh words and criticism. He has had too many scandals now. He has made them worry too often.  
  
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and starts scratching at the tabletop out of nervous habit. His mother brings two bowls to the table and slaps his fingers away, 'after all this time, you're still doing that!' she wonders aloud. 'Use your fingers for something useful’.  
  
She has made Doenjang soup. This is what he always asks for when he's home. The problem is, when he's home it's ashamedly always because something in his life has gone wrong.  
  
'Happy Birthday,' she says. She doesn't say anything more. They both know that something is going on but his mother isn't asking and Jiyong isn't telling. He wonders who'll last the longest.  
  
When she finishes her lunch, she puts another bowl in front of him and Jiyong accepts it with quiet thanks. He's hungrier than he thought and even though he feels bad for being so hungry, he eats until he can't any more. Part of him feels--- after something so terrible as what Seunghyun has done, with how hurt he is in the part of him that's still raw and feeling, he shouldn't have an appetite.  
  
'How are all your friends?' she asks.  
  
She's starting with an innocuous question. Jiyong keeps his eyes on his food and answers.  
  
'Fine'.  
  
'Have you heard from Daesung? Youngbae? Do you know how they're getting along?'  
  
'No, I haven't heard from them in weeks. I'm sure they're fine'.  
  
'Seunghyun? Lee? I saw him on television a few weeks ago, he's doing very well’.  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong answers. 'He's good at that TV stuff'.  
  
'His mother is proud. We had lunch a few months ago. She didn't stop talking about him. How is big Seunghyun?'  
  
Jiyong feels his stomach drop, inevitably. Then something happens that he doesn't expect or anticipate. He just answers her.  
  
'He's in Japan,' he says. 'He's going to be there for a while I think. Working on some songs over there I guess’.  
  
Simple.  
  
'That's nice. Won't you miss him? You're almost on your own now,' his mother says.  
  
Jiyong looks up into her smiling eyes, edged with unsuspecting sympathy.  
  
'Yeah,' he says dully. 'I'll miss him'.  
  
She smiles. She reaches over the table with a fragile hand and places her palm on the back of his. She pats it for moment, a little physical strength, transference, and then asks another question about some of his other friends, completely unaware that she's already hit on the problem.  
  
Jiyong said the words and nothing happened. He didn't want to throw up, he didn't want to cry or shout or be alone. He said the words and he was okay. He didn't feel much of anything. Seunghyun is in Japan and he's going to miss him. That's the situation, Jiyong thinks. That's all.   
  
After lunch, he helps her clear the table. He kisses her on the cheek and washes the dishes. He answers all her probing questions. She tries circuitously to find out why he's home, why he was crying hysterically on the phone a week before. She doesn't look as though she's found her answer. If Jiyong's lucky, she'll give up soon enough and believe his story of stress and fatigue.  
  
He spends the rest of the day in the garden, weeding with his mother in the most ridiculous sun-hat he's ever seen and he starts to feel better about himself. She makes jokes about him as a kid, brings up embarrassing stories he never wanted to hear again, and after a while he has a smile on his face.  
  
'I'm glad you're laughing,' his mother says in a quiet moment, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist. 'Jiyong, I worry about you. When you called home last week I thought my heart would break. You wouldn't tell me what was wrong. You wouldn't answer the phone on your birthday, your sister couldn't get through to you. Then two days later you call home like that, crying your heart out? I thought something terrible must have happened.'  
  
Jiyong swallows a lump in his throat and looks at the soft grass below him. While his mother speaks he tugs violently at a tuft of dried grass and throws it aside with a nervous gesture.  
  
'I told your father,' she goes on. 'He wanted to get in the car and go see you. I told him we couldn't, if you wanted to talk to us you would. I hoped you would call back because I couldn't understand a word of what you were saying to me that day, I really couldn't. You didn't call though and I thought you must be alright. I would give you some time'.  
  
Jiyong feels guilt rise up in him again. He's afraid of his mother. Of the failure he feels when he's with her. Hearing her say these things to his face, it makes him want to cry. He can buy them a house and a pension but that doesn't make him a good son. He doesn't visit and he doesn't call.   
  
'You called yesterday and you sounded so unlike you, so cold and distant and you said you were coming home. I was so surprised. I almost called your father back from his trip. I love you, sweetheart, I love you, but you don't come home very often. You have such a busy life, it feels like the only time you visit us is when you're in trouble'.  
  
Jiyong's lip starts to quiver despite himself. Tears well in his eyes and his throat burns. He's a piece of shit and this is it really, the reason he can never come home. He isn't a good son, he never has been. Being home is a reminder of everything he isn't, of all the pain he's caused his family.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he cries quietly. 'I'm sorry'.  
  
His mother reaches over and pulls on his shirt sleeve. Jiyong awkwardly moves closer, until he's almost in her lap. She pulls his face into her neck and shoulder with a palm on the back of his neck. She says, 'Don't be sorry. We're so proud of you!' She says it with a voice so strong, so determined and reassuring that Jiyong genuinely starts to cry, sniffling into his mother’s body like a kid who's been caught doing something wrong.  
  
'We're so proud of you, so don't be sorry! I just worry, I spend all my time worrying about you. I wish you would call us more. I wish you would call to say hello and not just call when you're upset. It isn't fair that the only time we get to hear you is on the television or when you're crying down the telephone’.  
  
Jiyong covers his face with one hand, slides it between his wet cheeks and his mother’s shirt and uses it as a second layer of protection. He wants to crawl into some dark corner and spend the rest of his life in there.  
  
'I don't know why you're here Jiyong, what you're doing here at home? I haven't seen anything on the television or heard anything about you. It can't be something like that, it must be something else. You didn't even bring a bag with you? You don't have a change of clothes. How long are you planning to stay here?'  
  
'I don't know,' he answers weakly.  
  
'What's the matter?' she asks soothingly.  
  
'I can't tell you,' Jiyong answers quietly, pulling away, unable to look her in the eyes but unable to stay in her embrace any longer. 'I want to but I can't'.  
  
He grabs her hand tightly in his own and pats it gently the way she did for him at lunch, and a hundred times before that. He smiles briefly and says, 'It's alright. I'll be alright'.  
  
When he finally looks at her face she has a worried expression that he's used to seeing. The kind of face that shows concern more than anything else, the kind that searches for guilt. It is the look on her face when he begrudgingly came home years earlier to say they were going to hear stories but, _please believe me, I don't take drugs, I swear I don't!_  
  
'I haven't done anything, I promise. This isn't anything I've done!' he assures her. 'It's something else, something private'.  
  
She looks visibly relieved and squeezes his hand in return. He hates that he's ever given her a reason to think the worst before anything else. He wants his family to trust him but it doesn't always go both ways so maybe that's too much to ask. In this moment though, he wants his mother to trust him wholeheartedly because for the first time he really is innocent, completely and 100% innocent of any wrongdoing.  
  
'Good,' she answers quietly.  
  


 

*

 

 

A covert shopping trip and a few sleeps later, he's sitting on the floor by his father's legs trying desperately to prove he has useful skills. He's sitting in a pair of cheap sweatpants and a simple white shirt with one of his father’s old watches hovering near his face in the one hand, a tiny screwdriver in the other.  
  
He just has to change a battery.  
  
He's been sitting here for fifteen minutes while his father reads the paper, pretending not to laugh at his complete ineptitude, trying to unscrew the back of his watch. He hasn't even made it that far, let alone changed the battery itself. He can't even get _into_ the fucking thing. For the tenth time in as many minutes, he hears the sound of his father’s paper coming down as he checks on his progress.  
  
'Maybe if you rap into the back of it, it will open. Drop some beats on it,' his father says, stifling his laughter.  
  
Jiyong groans and puts the watch down before flinging himself face-down into the carpet.  
  
'It's broken,' he says, muffled. 'I'll buy you a new one'.  
  
'I don't want a new one,' his father answers calmly. 'I want that one'.  
  
And so, Jiyong spends two weeks at his parent’s house trying to settle in to some kind of routine. His father seems happy enough to have him there. Jiyong is the butt of all his jokes and jibes but that makes him feel loved.  
  
His father takes him up into the shack he built in the yard, to the dismay of all the neighbours, where he spends time alone. 'Man time' he says. It doesn't matter that their house is large enough that if he wants to escape from his mother or sister when she visits, he can do it easily.  
  
They drink together for his birthday, albeit weeks late. They eat together, they even read together. Jiyong reads a book from start to finish for the first time in god knows how many years.  
  
The hardest part, or maybe the easiest, is that Seunghyun's hardly been on his mind at all. After his dream on the first night, Seunghyun hasn't appeared in any more, least of all naked. Jiyong doesn't have remorseful thoughts brought on by unexpected memories. He isn't reminded of Seunghyun by familiar sights or sounds. Seunghyun just isn't a part of his life here. This is his _home_. He's grown up here without Seunghyun and he's here again, almost growing up a second time without him around. In a new environment, it almost seems unfair how easy it is for him to leave what has happened behind.  
  
One evening he gets a text from Seungri that simply reads, 'Where are you?' and for an unwelcome moment that brings him back to the life he's trying to get away from. He's unwittingly done to Seungri what Seunghyun did to him. He calls him right back and is almost annoyed by how blasé Seungri sounds to hear from him. He obviously hasn't been furiously running back and forth trying to find out where he is. It turns out, 'Where are you?' doesn't mean _'you're missing!'_ It means 'I'm going clubbing, do you want to come?'  
  
Seungri says he turned up on Jiyong's doorstep to drag him out but he wasn't home. That's all. He didn't notice that Jiyong wasn't there until that moment. He seems surprised to know where he i _s_ and sounds a little worried that he's staying with his parents. It's almost universally known that a trip home means you're in dire straits. He's good enough not to say anything though. Neither of them mention Seunghyun and Jiyong spends an hour talking to Seungri about little things, about what he's been doing for two weeks and Seungri fills him in on his own ludicrous adventures.  
  
He asks how long Jiyong's going to be away and he answers honestly that he doesn't know. 'I'll come back when I'm ready,' he says and that's it. Jiyong promises to ring him in a weeks-time. When he goes back to his apartment, they'll have lunch.  
  
When he hangs up the phone he feels more together than he's felt in a long time, like the foundation of who he is on his own has been made a little stronger. At the same time, the thought of going back appals him. He worries about leaving this safe place where he's managed to pull himself together and laugh and be happy again. If he leaves and goes back to that apartment, the second he walks through the door he'll see Seunghyun. He’ll see the shadow of him standing there with that look on his face that tore his life out from under him.  
  
He isn't ready, the mere thought of going back terrifies him. So, he burrows in. He stays in that old bedroom of his for another three weeks. He finishes a long list of chores his mother sets out for him, trying to be helpful by giving him something to do. He cleans the gutters, weeds the entire garden, makes twenty trips to the dump with relics seemingly from another century. He has lunch with his mother and her friends, he folds the linen, he washes and irons and even learns to some extent, how to cook his mother’s Doenjang stew on his own.  
  
He goes and fetches Gaho from the family he lives with three months of every year. The people who run his parents Pension some of the time. They have six dogs of their own and as painful as it is, Jiyong thinks that for some part of his life, Gaho needs friends as much as he does.  
  
After Gaho comes back and knocks him on his ass in excitement and happiness to see him, Jiyong feels like the worst of the danger is over.  
  
Seunghyun was the love of his life so far but Gaho, well maybe he's the love of his life that little bit more. With Gaho, he's stronger. He won't be alone or useless, he'll have someone who loves him and needs him and makes him happy and who he _makes_ happy.

  


 

*  
  


 

  
His sister comes home a few days later to visit and sneaks up on him, unsuspecting, in the yard.  
  
'What's going on?' she asks. 'I'm worried about you.'  
  
He is throwing a ball around the yard while Gaho lumbers up and down after it. He’s felt happy and centred recently, so he is taken aback by his sister’s attitude. He has grown used to the relaxed atmosphere his mother and father have adopted.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You've been here for over a _month_ Jiyong and you haven't left yet! What's going on? Why won't you go home?'  
  
It's so blunt that Jiyong feels something inside him; a dark cloud threatening to destroy everything he's worked so hard to rebuild.  
  
'I'm just taking a break, there's nothing wrong,' he answers, looking at Gaho for back-up, but to no avail. Gaho is ass-up with his head in a hole at the far end of the garden trying to bury something or dig something up. Either way, he isn't where Jiyong wants him and he grows irritated irrationally fast.  
  
'Mom and Dad are so worried about you. It's not fair what you're doing. Snap out of it. Tell somebody what's going on'.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and his whole body recoils from the attack. 'This is my home too, you know, I'm not allowed to visit any-more? I need your written permission to see our parents now? Fuck off’.  
  
She looks offended and Jiyong's outraged by _her_ outrage. She doesn't know how hurtful her words are to him, how dangerously close they are to cutting something vital.  
  
'I love you,' she says. 'And I'm worried about you. I saw you a few weeks ago when you first came here and I thought you'd be alright after a week or two. What are you still doing here? Tell me what's going on so I can help you!'  
  
He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He presses down to try and stem the flow of misplaced anger he's about to spew out.  
  
'Stop it,' he says.  
  
It's all he can manage.  
  
'No, I won't stop it! You're obviously in trouble or you wouldn't be here still and you can give me that story about wanting to visit and spend quality time with Mom and Dad all you want, but I know it's a lie'.  
  
'Dami!' he snaps. 'Fucking stop it alright! Just stop!'  
  
She sighs heavily after that and rolls her eyes, letting her gaze follow where Jiyong's have gone, to Gaho doing his thing at the other end of the yard.  
  
'I think you should go home,' she says. 'Whatever this is, you need to deal with it and you can't do that here'.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and stares at his bare toes in the grass.  
  
'Oh yeah? What would you know?'  
  
Her answer comes unexpected, and he feels guilty afterwards although it doesn't dispel his anger.  
  
'You think I've never had it tough? You think I haven't slept in my old bedroom when I've been in trouble? Just because you're in a different world, that doesn't mean we're different. I'm your sister and I've always tried to look after you. Avoiding your problems doesn't make them go away. It just doesn't. You should know that better than anybody! This isn't like you’.  
  
Jiyong's trembling slightly with anger or fear or hurt, he can't tell. He can't say anything, the words aren't there and even if they were, his throat burns and his eyes water. His sister bridges the distance between them and pulls him into a hug that he surprisingly returns.  
  
'If you need help Jiyong, just say the words and I'll do whatever I can for you. But you can't stay here any longer, you just can't. It's not good for Mom and Dad and it's not good for _you_. You're 27 now. You can't be doing this’.  
  
Her tone changes to something more sympathetic, which is just as well because Jiyong is crying into her shoulder like he's six years old with a scraped knee. He doesn't even know why he's crying, only that he's afraid and angry and hurt and he hates her for ruining his private retreat away from the world--- but he hugs her anyway because maybe she's right. He doesn't agree with her now but maybe later. At any rate, it makes him realise that if she feels this way, his parents do too. It won't be so simple any more to wake up every day to their smiling faces because Dami has planted the seed of doubt in his mind that behind every smiling face is worry and that same question, _'what are you still doing here?'_  
  
'I don't want to go back,' he whispers.   
  
'Why, what's happened? I don't understand what's happened to you?' she answers, face over his shoulder. 'Just talk to me, you can tell me anything, you know that’.  
  
Jiyong shuts his eyes tight and makes a quiet sound of disagreement. It doesn't matter. She tells him to leave with good intentions and whether he wants to or not, whether he's prepared or not, he knows he has to.  
  
He spends one final week there, trying to reclaim desperately some of that happiness he'd found in simple tasks and simple company and having Gaho back and a place to stay without the world breaking in. He watches tv with his mother, plays cards with his father and texts people periodically to show he's still alive. Seungri drives down and they have lunch and drinks and when Jiyong says 'I'll be back in a few days,' Seungri seems surprised. Jiyong can't tell why or what that means but they make plans anyway to go out for dinner one night soon.  
  
He goes through his old things, old report cards and certificates and awards from school. He finds CD's and cassette tapes and VHS tapes that he scrutinises with a careful eye. He finds letters and photographs and a stuffed animal or two, one he pulls out from the recesses of his cupboard and holds for three hours without letting go.  
  
He goes over his entire life in that room until there's nothing left unturned. He feels a weight lifted, like the bulk of his uneasiness has been exorcised. He has gone over his entire life to date and cringed and laughed but it's over and there's no reliving it. It's over. It's a consolation that one day in five, six or ten years-time, he'll be in his own apartment doing the same thing again, laughing at what he's currently going through. That Seunghyun could ever mean so much to him.  
  
Gaho sidles up beside him and flops down into his lap, a crushing weight that Jiyong allows for as long as his old bones can manage. He rubs Gaho's head, pushes the folds back around his face and makes a kissy motion with his lips before kissing his head.  
  
'Time to go home'.  
  


 

*

   
  
  


He kisses his mother goodbye and his father. He cries only the smallest amount which makes him feel like a man. He promises to call more often and visit more, though he only half believes it.  
  
Then he goes home with his suit of armour made up of six weeks of rest and recuperation and stress-free living. He builds a wall of those things around himself like bricks and mortar with Gaho beside him like his second in command.  
  
He's going to be alright.  
  
With his parents, it was easy to forget what drove him away in the first place. What happened to him was painful but going away proved that he could live life despite it. He would take it day by day. He would have dinner with Seungri and follow Gaho's schedule. If he felt able, he'd write something down. He would shower and he would eat and he would take the sixteen flights of stairs if the elevator was broken and he would live his fucking life.  
  
So, he parks the car in the underground car park and breathes a sigh of relief when the elevator light pings and the doors open for Gaho to run inside. He takes that as a sign. God is looking out for him, whether he believes in him or not. Someone _wants_ him to be alright.  
  
The elevator doors open and he has a smile on his face at Gaho's excitement at being home. He stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought some treats so when Gaho finally settles down on the lounge or on the bed, Jiyong can give him a little something to welcome him back. He has missed him.  
  
When they make it to the end of the hall, Gaho jumps up and scratches on the door and bolts inside like a feral animal when Jiyong pushes it open. It is bright inside with the curtains open all the way. It's stuffy but it's cool and he can hear traffic from the street below. It's an ordinary day.  
  
Gaho speeds up the hallway and into the bedroom, then into the bathroom, into every room in the house to make sure everything is the way he remembers it and Jiyong laughs. He closes the door behind him and puts his bag down on the kitchen counter and then in one swift and fluid movement he sinks to the floor, on his hands and knees, and cries his fucking eyes out.  
  
He cries and cries and cries and six weeks of stability crumble away like dead leaves in his hand.  
  
He isn't alright.  
  
Seunghyun has been gone for almost two months and he hasn't heard a word from him or from anybody else about him. He is really gone and Jiyong already knew that. He knew in the pit of his stomach and in his heart that Seunghyun was gone but there was a part of him, however naïve and stupid that thought maybe he wasn't. Maybe if he waited long enough, Seunghyun would come home.  
  
A part of him, naïve and stupid and still hopelessly in love and dependent, hoped against all hope as he turned that key, that Seunghyun would be there on the other side of the door, sitting on the lounge the way he had been a hundred times or more. He would jump up, take him in his arms and say, _'I don't know what I was thinking'._  
  
Instead, there is silence and empty space and the sound of a dog ecstatic to be home, somewhere that suddenly doesn't feel like home any more.  
  
It crushes Jiyong in every way a person can be crushed. He crumples to the floor deflated and can't get up.

 

 

*

 

 

After that, things unfold naturally, not upwards but downwards. Life simply gets away from him. He crawls up from the floor long enough to feed the dog and to fall into bed and that becomes the core of his new life. He simply stays in bed and when he can't any longer, when his legs start to hurt and rolling over doesn't solve the problem, he moves to the lounge.  
  
If he feels energetic, he'll have a shower or make dinner instead of ordering in. After the first few times, the delivery boys don't think it’s strange how he asks them to leave his food outside the door. He leaves the money in an envelope and he effectively cuts off all physical contact with the outside world.  
  
He isn't stupid. He rings work regularly and tells Yang and his manager and whoever will listen that he's working on some songs, he'll come into the studio soon enough. Even if he isn't seen doing it, he _is_ working. There are new groups promoting now, people don't care so much about where he is all the time or what he's doing. With enough excuses, nobody really questions his disappearance. He texts people when he thinks it's due and he plays the part so well he doubts anyone will ever know the truth. That he has simply--- stopped.  
  
After a while it isn't even about Seunghyun anymore.  
  
At first, he just wanted a rest. To feel sorry for himself. He needed more time to pull himself together, but one sleep-in became two and then three and on the fourth day he didn't get out of bed at all except to move two metres to the toilet and back.  
  
Gaho was happy with whatever he was doing, content to sit at the bottom of his bed while he flicked mindlessly through the channels on the television against the wall. If Jiyong hadn't showered in a week, Gaho didn't notice and if he didn't notice or care, why shower at all? Once a week became the best Jiyong could manage and even that seemed like a chore he had barely the wherewithal to keep doing.  
  
At first, he tried to write. Discontent to let himself lapse into a useless existence, he sat up in bed with his laptop and typed what lyrics he could. It just wasn't enough. It was about Seunghyun but at the same time it wasn't. It was 15 years of holding himself together, finally come unstuck. He hadn't just lost Seunghyun, a living breathing person. He had lost touch with himself. He didn't know what to do to hold himself together. His self-confidence, his drive and ambition, his rationality, his desire for human contact – they all withered away in an unexplainable gust until what was left of him clinked around the apartment like a skeleton, unclothed and vulnerable.  
  
If someone had shown up on the doorstep and thrown clothes on his back and forced him out the door, he would have gone. He would have taken baby steps and one by one moved his feet a little further out into the world, but no-one did.  
  
He lied and lied and lied again without rhyme or reason to keep other people at bay and his own fears and insecurities made his new existence an unshakeable cycle. He wanted to stop. He wanted to go back to work and go drinking with friends and be more involved in Seungri's life and a hundred other things he would think about in bed. He'd make plans and when he made them they were more real than anything else in his life. When he woke up, he _was_ going to go to work, he _was_ going to call someone to go out, he _was_ going to move on with his life.  
  
Was, was, _was._  
  
Morning would come and he'd say, _'in a minute, in an hour, after lunch, after I feed Gaho,_ and then when the sun went down, _tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow_ '.  
  
It didn't take long before he found himself in a hole so deep he simply couldn't climb out. It was all so stupid. He was ashamed. He wanted someone to help him but every time he gripped the phone in his hand, every time he opened an email, the same fear and humiliation gripped him and he thought, _'No, I can do it myself_ '.  
  
He had always been strong. He couldn't let people know how weak he was, and for what? He navigated scandals. He held Big Bang together when they drifted and he _survived._ How could he tell people he was in trouble? Because of what? What happened to him just wasn't the kind of thing that broke somebody. Every time he tried to snap out of it, some insignificant thing would set him off and he'd crawl back into bed where it was safe and simple and the wealth of emotions he suppressed couldn't do any more damage than what had already been done.  
  
One day he was sad and angry and then he was nothing at all. Devoid of all emotion beyond love and care for Gaho. Beyond that, the bulk of his life was simply waking up to go to sleep and falling asleep to wake up.  
  
He lasted a long time.  
  
Two months.  
  
Then, his emotionless state gave way to something else. Something more dangerous and harder to escape. He suddenly felt like a burden, that even out of the way and out of the limelight, the mere fact of his inattention and his avoidance was a burden in of itself. Every negative feeling he had ever had, every ounce of self-doubt or insecurity came down on him at once, a thousand-fold.  
  
His life came to a quiet stop.  
  
He fed Gaho and played with him, he threw balls around the apartment that bounced off walls and knocked photo-frames off counters. He smiled when Gaho wanted attention, when he tried to jump on the lounge and fell back down. He laughed at comedians on the tv, at shows he'd never had the chance to watch. He cried at sad movies and during sad songs.

 

 

*

  
  


Every five days he would sit down in his closet and open the black shoebox where he kept the things that were important to him. The box was old and worn around the corners. At first, he filled it with photos and paper scraps with lyrics and little gifts he'd been given. The things in there now weren't very different, although over the years the photos became fewer and the paper scraps even moreso. There was a small velvet bag with a ring inside, silver and bulky that Youngbae had bought him during his first scandal. There was a pair of silly stud earrings given to him by Seungri, little plastic shells he must have pulled off a girl’s doll. It was so stupid but so personal, Jiyong had never thrown them away. There was a small gold cross given to him by Daesung and a few other tidbits. Sitting on the top was now the most important thing he owned. Seunghyun's phone. Every five days he would go into the cupboard and pull out that phone and charge it. No matter what happened or what he was doing or how unable to crawl out of bed he felt, he always charged that phone.  
  
Sometimes, he would ring. He would call just to hear Seunghyun's voice on the answering machine; _'This is Seunghyun, I can't answer the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you'._  
  
He'd talk to him.  
  
It didn't matter that he wasn't there and that he'd never get the messages. Jiyong had nobody left to talk to and exorcising all his thoughts and feelings into Seunghyun's answering machine made him feel better when nothing else would.  
  
He had his routine, albeit small.  If Gaho was restless he'd walk him up and down the hallway outside his apartment, ducking back through the door if he heard someone coming and that's as far as he could go. He had groceries delivered by the store, his bags of food left outside in the hall for him to collect when the coast was clear.  
  
Then he drank. He didn't want to but he was so sad and so empty. He needed help but was unable to help himself and nobody else knew he needed it to offer any. He drank more than he ever had before. If he was drunk enough he'd actually _leave_ the house, he'd toss his fears aside and oblivious to his own appearance, would leave his apartment to find something better.  
  
He tried to be careful, a shrill voice in the back of his head reminding him that out there in the world were Seungri and Daesung and Youngbae, and their futures were inexplicably tied to his own. If he fucked up, it would ruin them by association. So, he limited his excursions to private parties and he was careful.  
  
And then he wasn't.  
  
One night he went out, drunk and devoid of any real feeling beyond, ' _I hate this. What's wrong with me?'_ and he slipped up. He made a mistake.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Choking.  
  
It's the only thing he's aware of, the only things that exists.  
  
He's _choking._  
  
His neck is at an angle and it hurts when he swallows. Pain courses down his throat and shoulders. It hits him inside his skull and rattles down his spine. His throat is dry and his mouth open. He swallows through the pain as best he can but his throat feels racked with tiny convulsions. He can't swallow without pain or take a deep breath so he's stuck; trying desperately to do one or the other but never doing either.  
  
He can't breathe.  
  
The pain is exhausting. The only parts of his body he can feel are the places in his chest and head that are hurting him. It's violent and acute. It’s the most physical pain he's ever felt and it seems to dull every sense until there's nothing _but_ pain. It starts in his head and moves down his spine until it settles in every reach of his otherwise unfeeling body.  
  
There isn't anything else.  
  
Just pain.  
  
Eventually, he can't tell if he's breathing or not, but maybe it doesn't matter.  
  
_I'm asleep._  
  
People don't wake up in the dark on the verge of death. People die suddenly or in their sleep or after long illnesses. Not like this. So, Jiyong lets go. He doesn't struggle. He waits to wake up. The dark grows a little darker and his thoughts quieter. He feels his heartbeat slow. He can hear it in his ears.  
  
_Beat ----- Beat ----- Beat ----_  
  
Then he doesn't feel the next one.  
  
_Oh,_ he thinks.  
  
But then there's something. A hand on the back of his neck. He feels himself being shoved forward. His chest hits something hard and then ---  
  
_beat ---_  
  
His face hits something cool and smooth, then there's a weight behind him, pushing him forward, suffocating him. The fog in his mind dissipates a little. The wheels in his mind start to turn. He isn't asleep.  
  
_This isn't a dream._  
  
He is barely conscious enough to be afraid.  
  
Nausea swells up inside him, bile drags up his throat and his heart skips a beat as a hand roughly grips his face, around his chin and his stomach. Something hard is digging into his waist. He isn't on the ground any more. Blood rushes into his face, into his head. He feels someone behind him, pressed flat against him, their thighs on the backs of his own and he's bent over something.  
  
A bath.  
  
His eyes open for half a second but the sting closes them involuntarily. They are open long enough for him to see white. The smooth porcelain finish of a bath.  
  
_His_ bath?  
  
The hand around his face is joined by another and his mouth is pried open. Fingers shove their way inside. Heavy fingers, thick and sweaty. They're in his mouth, in his throat---  
  
His eyes water and he gags.  
  
Someone has their fingers in his mouth and he wants to stop them, he wants to grab their hand with his own and force it away but when he tries he can't do it. He has no control over his arms. He can't feel them at all. There's nothing he can do. He can't breathe.  
  
He chokes and the fingers in his mouth push deeper until they hit the back of his throat.  
  
He is _sick._  
  
It burns. It tears up his throat until he can feel it in his nose and the sting behind his eyes, and he throws up. The hand in his mouth pulls out but not fast enough, he throws up on whoever made him, and when he's finished being sick and manages a fitful lungful of air, the fingers are back in his throat and he's being sick all over again.  
  
He isn't conscious of finishing.  
  
Now his cheek is flat on the porcelain edge of a bath and he's on the floor, legs splayed beneath him. Someone is behind him with an arm around his stomach keeping him upright but all he can feel is the cool porcelain against his skin.  
  
He drifts in and out. He is weak and on the edge of consciousness and then he's almost alert, he can feel things, sense things, enough to be frightened. He feels a body up against him, flush against his back and a hand not around his stomach, on his forehead instead, smoothing his hair back.  
  
He can smell the vomit now. He can smell it on himself, in his clothes or on his face. His neck is warm. He might have missed the bath altogether and --- Something else. He _feels_ it. He can feel his legs again, or partially, his thighs at least and they're warm, they contrast violently with the chill in his chest and his face and his thighs ---- _warm_ and _damp_. There is a smell of piss and the feel of warm jeans and he knows what he's done.  
  
Like a little kid, he's pissed his pants and he doesn't know when or why or what's happening beyond the vomit and the piss and the weight on his limbs. He laughs quietly, a rasping croaking squeak of disbelief and incomprehension.  
  
A voice, _the_ voice ---- The voice whose arms are holding him, who jammed fingers down his throat, the voice speaks and it’s almost familiar. Deep and rough.  
  
_'It's okay, it doesn't matter'._  
  
There is a hand on his forehead again, smoothing back his hair.  
  
' _You're alright'._

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  
  
  
He wakes to a throbbing headache and a wave of nausea so powerful, he lurches sideways and almost rolls off the bed. If not for Gaho acting as a wall between himself and the carpet, he would have hit the floor face first. His stomach recoils at the sudden movement. The pain is overwhelming. He grips the skin beneath his shirt and his fingernails burrow deep enough to leave marks. He _aches._ With each breath, the pain seems to migrate into other parts of his body. He feels like throwing up but can't.  
  
Gaho doesn't notice. The warm fur next to him rises and falls at its usual pace.

  
  
*

 

  
When Jiyong wakes a second time, the pain is muted somewhat. He is comfortable in that in-between place, between sleep and waking. Gaho is beside him, snoring softly. It is peaceful and warm, but a voice emerges. It threatens to pull him from sleep but he isn't ready to relinquish his hold. He ignores it. He tells his subconscious it's nothing. He tries to incorporate the words into his dream.  
  
_' ––––– hospital?_ '  
  
He pictures one in his mind and nothing is grossly altered by the change in scenery. He still has one foot in the dream.  
  
_'Not yet –'_  
  
He wants to stay where it is warm and quiet. Where there isn't any pain. Where everything is alright. He has the feeling that outside the dream things aren't alright.  
  
_‘I didn't find anything ––'_  
  
Focus on the dream. Stay in the dream.  
  
_'Can't find anything –– sleeping pills –– aspirin –'_  
  
Don't wake up. Don't wake up.  
  
_'Alright'._  
  
Then quiet. The voice is gone and Jiyong crawls his way back into sleep after teetering on the edge of wakefulness.  
  
He sleeps for hours.  
  


  
*   
  
  


  
When he wakes a third time, Gaho is gone. Jiyong feels around blind for his heavy body but he isn't there. The bed is empty. Latent responsibility stirs. If Gaho isn't on the bed, he must be hungry or need the toilet. Jiyong has to fill his bowl. He has to change his water and open the laundry door so he can go to the bathroom.  
  
He crawls out of bed and palms the thighs of his sweatpants. They're grey and baggy. Old. He hasn't worn them in years. He can't remember putting them on.  
  
He heads to the bathroom first but feels slower than usual, his limbs moving like they are weighted down. His face feels numb and his fingers clumsy, like they are moving through liquid. He pushes open the bathroom door but revolts the instant he steps inside. He doesn't expect the smell that gets caught in his nose and throat. It's so strong he can barely breathe. His already weakened stomach reacts to it. He barely has the time to step forward, his hands clutching the sides of the sink. He throws up. Vomit roils up from the pit of his stomach and he throws up what little is there and then what isn't. He dry heaves until his stomach gives in and the paroxysms stall.  
  
Bleach.  
  
He buries his face in the crook of his arm, with his body hunched over the sink. Then, he hears footsteps.  
  
He recoils in surprise as the door hits the wall behind him. All of a sudden, there is somebody in the room with him. He can barely see. His eyes are cloudy with the residual tears from being sick. He can only see an outline, the _shape_ of a person behind him in the mirror before his eyes clench shut involuntarily. He doesn’t recognise them.  
  
Instantly, he is petrified. He tries to tell himself he is still asleep, that this is just a nightmare, but his hopes are dispelled in an instant. Large, heavy hands grip his arms on both sides and physically pull him from the sink. He is dragged out the door.  His weak protests go unheeded until his knees buckle in the hallway and he hits the floor.  
  
_'Are you alright?'_  
  
He scrambles. He slaps unknown hands and arms away and spins around, backing away. He moves towards the furthest wall on his behind, using his hands and heels to push himself back. There is someone in his apartment and he doesn’t _know_ them. His heart beats violently in his chest and he feels dread in every cell of his body. He shakes all over like a child afraid of the dark; afraid of monsters under the bed, afraid of murderers and death. He doesn't recognise the man's voice and his eyes won't open long enough to see a face.  
  
He scrambles until his back hits a piece of furniture. He brings his knees to his chest and forces his stinging eyes open. He wipes them on the back of his wrist again and again until he can see more clearly. He doesn't know this man and there is no uniform. The voice in his head searching for a rational explanation, _policeman, fireman, paramedic_ – is quieted in an instant.  
  
He is tall. A little over six feet. He has broad shoulders and he's solid. Big arms, big chest, big legs. He has scruff on his face, the makings of a moustache and beard, the kind Jiyong grows after a week of not shaving. He is wearing jeans and a dress shirt that is wrinkled and faded and there isn't anything about him that can explain him being there.  
  
'What the fuck,' Jiyong whispers from the other side of the room, _'Please—’  
_  
The man crouches down where he is but doesn't move any closer. He raises his palms slowly in a supplicating gesture, as if he’s wary of spooking a wild animal.  
  
'Jiyong,' he says. 'It's alright'.  
  
His voice is so low and coarse and deep. It swells inside Jiyong like a bad memory because his voice reminds him of something, only he can't think what. He feels a pang in his heart and then it's gone.  
  
He watches the stranger wordlessly through watery eyes and doesn't say a word. That's the safest bet if someone wants to kill you. If you don't say anything, you can't make it worse. Don't speak. He knows he should do something, like shout or beg him to leave, _'Who are you? What are you doing here?'_ but he doesn't. He's too afraid.  
  
The man watches him and Jiyong watches him back.  
  
'Are you in pain?' The guy asks.  
  
It takes Jiyong a minute to understand. _Am I what?_ In pain? His eyes sting, he can feel that. He has to wipe them on the back of his wrist every so often to clear them but pain? He looks down innocently at his body as if looking for injuries he hadn't noticed before and on the sweep, his eyes falter at his stomach.  
  
His breath hitches.  
  
There is something dull in the pit of his stomach, an ache he didn't feel before. It seems to swell inside him until that dull ache morphs into _genuine_ pain, a sharp wrenching in his gut. He _is_ in pain. The seed of the idea has been planted and, all of a sudden, Jiyong is aware of his body in a new way. He grasps feebly for his stomach. He doesn't know what to say. He can't think straight. He is in panic mode.  
  
Too tired and afraid to think rationally, his panic goes up a notch without warning. Like a cornered animal, he suddenly feels the danger. There is no plan, just panic. He breathes in faster and shorter breaths and covers his face with his arms. He tries to curl into a ball because all the parts of him that should have stirred into action are gone, missing, shut down.   
  
There is a shuffle of clothing, the scuff of a shoe on the ground and Jiyong crumples further to the floor, with his cheek flat on the carpet. He’s just so tired. So frozen. None of this is happening. He is so confused—this must be a dream. It has to be.  
  
The man approaches and Jiyong doesn't move. The inner voice screaming out for action simply isn't loud enough. Fatigue wraps itself around him like a blanket and the weight of it is so heavy that not even his fear can move him. He just watches the man's shoes and the bottom of his jeans come slowly into focus until they are only a foot distant.  
  
He shakes so violently, his teeth knock together.  
  
_Please, let me wake up._  
  
The stranger crouches down and all the air in Jiyong's body seems to leave him. Suddenly, he can't breathe. It's like he’s forgotten how. He inhales but nothing happens. It’s as though his lungs have frozen in place. A new kind of fear rises within him, one that swallows whole the fear of this stranger.  
  
_I can't breathe._  
  
He can feel it, every paralysing second. There is clarity at last, the slowness in his mind seems to evaporate like water and he suddenly feels frighteningly awake and aware of what is happening. He can feel every part of his body crying out for air. He hyperventilates and can’t stop himself.  
  
_I can't breathe._  
  
He feels pains in places he can't explain, as though every nerve is firing at once. He hurts from his toes to his ears. He can't speak or move or do anything at all. Just panic. In his mind, he sees lights, Gaho and a bath. He suddenly remembers a lot of things. Things Seungri said to him in passing that didn't mean anything. Tripping Youngbae by accident when they were fourteen. Inconsequential things he would give anything to relive.  
  
His fingers and toes clench. His face flushes.  
  
The shoes in front of him move and Jiyong's anchor to the real world disappears. He would give anything to go back five minutes, to simply being afraid of this stranger. Being murdered has to be better than this. Better than suffocating. He doesn't want to die like this. Of a panic attack. Slowly.  
  
His thoughts drag. His eyes go out of focus so he closes them. It all seems to happen too fast. It feels devastatingly familiar.  
  
_Too fast._  
  
A hand on the back of his neck yanks him so tightly upwards his whole body raises from the ground. The wheels in his mind begin to turn, albeit slowly and he sees a bath again in his mind. Something hits him hard in the back and he coughs involuntarily, a strained breath edging down into his lungs. There is a hand on his face pulling his head back, pressing into his cheeks to keep his mouth open.  
  
'Just breathe normally,’ the voice says. ‘Relax. Slow down. Slow breaths in and out'.  
  
The voice is forceful but calm and Jiyong clings to it like a lifeline. He lurches forward, inhaling deep, and there is nothing in the world except the air straining to get into his lungs and down his throat. He unleashes a throaty gasp that seemed to go on and on. He tries to inhale as long as he can, in case there won't be another.  
  
It feels like minutes pass. Maybe they do. Somewhere amidst them, he is reprimanded. Through his narrowly focused mind, he can still hear the voice saying forcefully, 'Breathe out!' but he doesn't want to. _'Breathe out!_ ' it says again. 'One, Two, Three, Four, Five ---- _Breathe in --_ \- One, Two, Three, Four, Five ----'  
  
It goes on like that for a while and despite himself, Jiyong's breathing falls into rhythm with the voice’s count. Inhale for five, exhale for five. The voice has authority. It sounds calm and sure and there's a perverse note of comfort and safety in its timbre.  
  
Breathe in for five.  
  
Breathe out for five.  
  
As suddenly as it begins, it's over.  
  
He can breathe again, as though it's the most natural thing in the world and it is. That there was ever a point in his life where he _couldn't_ breathe seems quickly a joke. It doesn't seem possible. There is no residual sign of what happened except for his own rapid heartbeat, his clenched fingers and _the man._ The man holding him. The owner of that voice. The unknown stranger who has appeared in his apartment uninvited without an explanation. Jiyong’s fear puts up a fight. It tries to take him over again.  
  
'Trust you to be literally scared to death _'._  
  
Jiyong hears the voice but can’t answer. He is too stunned to move. He just stares at the crinkled blue dress shirt in front of him, trying to understand what’s going on, if he’s really awake or if this is just the most vivid nightmare. Maybe he took something--- he took a pill in a club and this is all a hallucination.  
  
The alertness of moments earlier begins to wear away, replaced with fatigue and a quiet inside his head. The sheer excitement of what has happened, of what is happening still, has drained him.  
  
Then, a hand runs gently through his hair, smoothing it back past his flushed face.  
  
'You're alright'.  
  
For a moment Jiyong actually settles. There is something comforting in the stranger’s words, then he has the flash of a memory and remembers.  
  
_'You're alright’._  
  
He has heard that before.  
  
The bath was real. It wasn't a memory from way back when. It was fresh. It only just happened. He was over a bath and this guy was _there_. He was in the bathroom and he was sick. _There was something wrong with me._ He remembers in bits and pieces and lashes out.  
  
He remembers the bathroom, or enough of it to make sense of what is happening now. Enough to know this isn't a dream, that he is slow and clumsy and things don't feel right because they a _ren't_. Something _happened_ to him, though he doesn't know what and this man, this stranger is the only thing or person he has to blame.  
  
He remember choking. He remembers fingers in his mouth and down his throat. And his pants. He remembers, he pissed his pants like a child. He looks at his sweatpants; the sweatpants he can't remember putting on because he _didn't_ put them on. These weren't the pants he was wearing in the bathroom, that he cried over, embarrassed over what he'd done. Someone else dressed him.  
  
He feels a new kind of sickness well up inside him, one of humiliation and regret. He tries to push the man away from him, but it doesn’t do any good. He feels a flush of anger and desperation and lashes out. He raises his hands but the man stops him in his tracks. He brushes Jiyong’s hands aside like they’re nothing.  
  
A combination of fear and fatigue take him over. They suck the last reserve of energy from his body and he has no choice but to be still. He closes his eyes, resigned to whatever happens next. He tells himself for the hundredth time, this is a nightmare. This isn’t real.  
  
'Jiyong, it's alright. Everything is fine'.  
  
The man talks to him like he’s a child; a little boy who's had a nightmare and needs to be lulled to sleep. Hearing his name in the stranger’s mouth makes his stomach lurch. _Nothing makes sense._ He is too confused and too tired and too weak. This _has_ to be a dream. The stranger speaks and speaks again, a constant stream of quiet reassurances and for all his disgust and apprehension, Jiyong eventually finds some tired comfort in the words he's saying.  
  
'Don't work yourself up. I told you, a few days of rest and some food and you'll be good as new'.

 

  
  
* * *  
  
  


 

When Jiyong wakes again, unconscious of having fallen asleep at all, he is back in his bed. Gaho is beside him snoring softly, though he bats an eyelid at Jiyong's movement. The dog goes back to sleep and Jiyong lays there immobile; unwilling to move or get up out of fear. This is a nightmare. He can't tell what's real and what's not.  
  
He wants to wake up.  
  
There are sounds coming from the kitchen. He hears plates clatter in a drawer and on the counter. His stomach drops. He isn't alone. He didn't dream it. The stranger is real and Jiyong is still alive. He hasn’t been murdered. He isn’t tied to a bed or laying insensible in a bathtub with a missing kidney. It doesn’t make any sense.  
  
He sits up slowly, afraid of his own body, afraid that any sudden movement will hurt him. He tries not to think about it. His fingers hover over the front of his shirt, over his chest. An unconscious memory of what happened. He is overly conscious of each breath.  
  
When his feet touch carpet, he realises his mind is less cloudy. He isn't as tired as he was earlier and his thoughts come a little easier. His fear is only a quiet niggling voice in the very back of his mind. His rationale has come back, mostly. There is a man in his apartment he doesn't know. He gets that. He also knows in the back of his mind, this guy probably helped him out. He doesn’t know how or why he was in trouble in the first place, but it all seemed to culminate with this stranger.  
  
It could be his fault, of course. Maybe the guy hurt him to start with but Jiyong doesn't know that. All he knows for certain is that he _helped_ him. The man called him by his name. He spoke like they knew each-other, with a certain level of intimacy so maybe they _do_ know each-other. He said nice things after all. Comforting things. Objectively, there wasn’t a moment where the guy threatened to peel off his skin or throw him in a dumpster.  
  
He tries to be sensible.  
  
He can't remember how this happened. He can remember the bathroom now in bits and pieces but not how he got there or why. He can't remember a chunk of time and he doesn't know how far back that loss of memory stretches. He doesn't know when _now_ is. He can remember doing things in the apartment that seem recent, but he has no way of knowing when they were. No way of knowing what _the last thing he remembers_ even is.  
  
It's possible he _does_ know this guy. Either way, he hasn't killed him and most likely undressing him aside, he has no proof that this man has hurt him in any way, aside from scaring him to death. Most importantly, Gaho is sleeping on the bed. If he was in danger, Gaho wouldn’t go to sleep. That provides the most stable comfort.  
  
He takes a calm breath and stands on shaky legs.

 

  
*  
  
  


 

When he leaves the bedroom, he ogles the front door between him and the kitchen. He has thoughts about making a run for it. There's no way the man could stop him in time. He could escape but doesn't. He hears something that prevents him.  
  
The guy is washing dishes. Jiyong can hear it clearly. There’s no mistaking that sound, and the more Jiyong looks around his apartment, the more he sees the man's presence on everything in sight. He has cleaned up, and not just cleaned and swept and dusted but _organised_. From his bookshelves to the tables, everything is neat and arranged and memory loss or not, Jiyong knows he didn't do _that._ The man obviously didn't break in. Jiyong can't remember an episode of any crime drama where the criminals washed dishes and tidied up.  
  
So, even though his throat is dry and aches, and his heart beats heavily in his chest, he doesn't run. He has no idea what's going on. He wants to know what he doesn't _know_. What happened? The rational part of his mind tells him this man, whoever he is, doesn't want to hurt him. He could have killed him twenty times over and hasn't.  
  
So, he walks cautiously into the kitchen and there he is. The mystery guy. Tall, broad and imposing and completely unfamiliar. When the man doesn't hear him enter, Jiyong clears his throat. The guy jumps, startled. He turns around with a rag in his hand and a cup in the other. Jiyong is surprised he doesn't drop it.  
  
'I didn't think you'd be awake yet’. The man says, surprised. ‘Are you alright? What do you want? Water? Food?'  
  
Jiyong's lips part to speak but he doesn't know what to say. It's too strange. It’s like an episode of the twilight zone. One day you wake up in familiar surroundings but everything feels wrong. You don’t recognise the people who recognise you. Your identity wavers. Your sanity too, a bit.  
  
'Jiyong?'  
  
There it is again. His name; like this man has said it a thousand times before. Jiyong's eyebrows knit and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tries to speak evenly. He tries to sound calm but when the question leaves his mouth, he is too aware of the touch of fear and confusion that leaks in. His stomach is in knots and it's a chore to control his breathing.  
  
‘Who _are_ you?’  
  
The man's eyebrows knit to mirror his own. He puts the cup down on the table. Jiyong jumps imperceptibly at the sound of it touching the tabletop.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I don't know who you _are,'_ Jiyong answers. 'What are you doing here?'  
  
The man looks disappointed and a little put out.  
  
'Sorry,' he begins, like he's trying to get something straight. It makes Jiyong feel childish. 'You don't know me? You don't remember me?'  
  
And then, like he's in his own house, the guy just sits down. Jiyong watches him, bewildered. The man looks so offended that Jiyong actually feels something, a pang of sympathy maybe. He feels, all of a sudden, like the people in movies who wake up after accidents and can't remember their friends or family.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he says quickly, 'but I don't know what's happening here. I don't know you. I don't know what you're doing here'. He breaks eye contact and waves his hand vaguely in the air to explain. 'I mean what's _wrong_ with me. I don't remember anything. I wake up in my bathroom and there's fingers in my mouth and then I'm in my bed again and --- _you?_ '  
  
He tries to go on but his thoughts are confused and his memories so mixed up, he can't figure out what else to say. He doesn't need to say _anything_ for all it's worth. The man cuts in a moment later.  
  
'Hyeong-bae,' he says blankly. 'That's my name. We know each-other, sort of. I didn't break in, so take that nervous look off your face. I was with you last night. You let me in.'  
  
_Oh,_ Jiyong thinks. What does that mean? _With_ with? Sex with? Is that he what he meant? Did he bring someone home, too drunk to remember? What kind of indignity.  
  
'Sorry, I thought you'd remember,’ the guy says--- _Hyeong-bae_ says. ‘I guess that's why you had a bit of a panic attack earlier. You didn't know who I was'. Hyeong-bae smiles in good humour, though his expression is different now to earlier. A little more careful and reserved. Jiyong watches him carefully. He catalogues everything about him that he can see and the anxiety and fear dissipate a little.  
  
There _is_ something familiar about him but he can't place it. For all that, he seems simple if anything. He is too calm and comfortable. Jiyong honestly thinks he's telling the truth. He's grateful but worried about what happened and what he's done. If he brought this guy home and had sex with him, well --- forget the rest.  
  
Jiyong, for a lack of anything better to do, sits down on the opposite side of the table.  
  
'Did I bring you home for a _particular reason?'_  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't understand at first but when it finally settles in, his eyes show the full gamut of his surprise. They didn't sleep together.  
  
'What? Oh, fuck no’.  
  
Jiyong tries to stifle his relief through a polite but involuntary grimace.  
  
'Just checking'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks a little strange after that, uncomfortable in his seat but he recovers with gentle probing.  
  
'So how do I know you if not that?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'I knew you when you were a kid,' Hyeong-bae says. 'You were friends with my little brother. Jin-Young. You would have been thirteen or fourteen maybe. You'd come over in your free time because we had a swimming pool. You and Youngbae'.  
  
Jiyong tries to remember.  
  
'My brother was kind of quiet. He wasn't like the two of you,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I don't think either of you liked him that much, you just liked having somewhere to go on hot days'.  
  
Jiyong thinks back. He tries to picture Youngbae when they were younger, and then on the outskirts of his memory, he sees a pool first and then a boy. Jiyong's guilt draws him into remembrance because Hyeong-bae is right. They didn’t like the kid. He was too serious. He read big books and he studied and he never made time for anything else. He was the only kid in their class that had a pool though. It was all a bit sketchy but Jiyong remembers and that's enough. He can't remember this guy though. He can’t remember an older brother.   
  
'I remember him,' Jiyong says, ‘but I don't remember you'.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles.   
  
'That's alright'.  
  
Jiyong watches him carefully as he speaks.  
  
'I was always there, but I was older you know? I was eighteen, I didn't see you guys much. I took the three of you for a drive once so Youngbae could see his Grandma and you could see the water. You cut your foot open on a rock. I was worried you needed stitches. I spent the whole drive home shouting at you. You were going to get me into trouble. I thought my parents would take my car away'.  
  
Suddenly from the depths of his hazy memories, Jiyong _remembers_. The memory comes back so suddenly it shocks him. It's the first clear memory he's had in God knows how long. It's like it happened yesterday.  
  
'I remember!' he blurts out. 'I remember you! You gave me money. You said not to tell anyone about my foot or to pretend it happened somewhere else. You said if I told anyone it was you, your whole life would be ruined'. He snorts quietly then. 'The cut was just a scratch, we tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen. Youngbae and I spent all your money on food ---'  
  
He remembers him.  
  
Sort of.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks familiar now and there's no way _anyone_ but the four of them could have known about that. He is who he says. Jiyong believes him. There aren't a lot of memories though. Hyeong-bae would stay in his room when they were over or he simply wouldn’t be home. Jiyong never paid attention to him.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs quietly, looking embarrassed. He's playing with the watch on his wrist.  
  
'I don't remember seeing you before now,' Jiyong ventures. 'I don't remember talking to you. What are you doing here?’  
  
'What's the last thing you remember?'  
  
Jiyong thinks about it seriously but he can't remember a thing. There's a gaping hole in his memory and how far and wide it stretches, he can't tell. He's lost track of time over the past few weeks, he honestly can't say.  
  
'I don't know,' he answers truthfully. His heart beats faster in his chest and he looks at Hyeong-bae with imploring eyes, begging him to tell him what he doesn't know. 'Why don't I remember anything? What happened?'

 

 

  
*

HYEONG-BAE POV

 

 

  
He saw him from across the room, though not at first. Instead, he saw other sets of eyes all pointed in the same direction; girls and boys alike all focused on one point in the distance and that's when he saw him. His gaze followed theirs and their eyes met looking at _him._  
  
Kwon Jiyong. The illustrious G-Dragon.  
  
He'd always kept a quiet interest in what Jiyong was doing, though not out of love, it was more a diversion. It was simple curiosity. He'd known him briefly as a child and wondered sometimes what made Jiyong so special that he could rise above and become somebody who mattered. He was only a kid when they knew each-other. Jiyong was thirteen, equal parts cockiness and insecurity. As much as Jiyong thought he was going to be somebody special, it seemed equally likely that he'd fail. He seemed to hedge his bets after every outburst of arrogance. He would check himself _;_ some injection of reality into all his hopes and dreams.  
  
Hyeong-bae was Eighteen, he didn't really care about Jiyong's hopes and dreams. He had his own and Jiyong, he was just a kid. He'd come over in his board-shorts and no shirt and head straight for the pool. He and Youngbae both. His brother was quiet and had no friends but their family, they were rich. That bought his brother Jiyong and Youngbae and two other boys who brought what little excitement they could into his life in exchange for a pool on hot days and the latest video games on loan. They had a sort of system going.  
  
Inevitably, Jiyong and Youngbae stopped coming around. Soon enough, they were on the tv and the radio and, against all odds, they had both managed to do the impossible.

 

  
*

  
  
  
Twelve years later Hyeong-bae had lost everything. He had nothing left except his small apartment and an old work suit for interviews he didn't have a hope of doing well in. With what middling savings he had left, sometimes he just needed to drink until the dismal reality of his life began to fade.  
  
There was one club in particular that had become a second home. Nobody ever bothered him there. He could drink and drink and nobody cared. He wasn't bold enough to approach anyone or perhaps too disinterested. He didn't cause any trouble.  
  
He was there like always. His credit card had been declined. He was on his last one now. Once that card went, he was fucked. Once that final bartender told him his card was no good, he’d walk to the nearest bridge and fling himself off.  
  
Enter G-Dragon.  
  
It felt like a fortuitous sign. Hyeong-bae needed money and here was somebody who at the very least would pay for a drink, if nothing else. According to the media, Jiyong wasn't just rich, he was ultra-rich. A few drinks were the least he could afford. With enough nostalgic stories from the past, he might pay for Hyeong-bae's entire night. If Hyeong-bae could just talk to him for a minute, enough to _introduce_ himself.

The opportunity didn't come for one long hour, when out of the closed off section of the club, Jiyong emerged with a friend in tow to go to the bathroom.  
  
_The bathroom._  
  
It was the perfect place.  
  
Hyeong-bae moved closer and waited a respectable amount of time, intending to 'run into him' as he exited, but Jiyong didn't come out. His friend came out, but two and three minutes later, Jiyong was still inside. In some drunken moment of stupidity, Hyeong-bae thought he might have escaped out a window and he pushed the bathroom door open in irritation to find no-one there.  
  
He scoffed over the sound of music blaring in through the slow-closing door but when it did close behind him and the bathroom grew quieter, he could hear noises coming from the last stall. Coughing noises, tiny ones; of someone trying to clear their throat. After thirty seconds, the door opened and there he was.  
  
Kwon Jiyong.  
  
The Amazing G-Dragon, an everlasting font of money and wealth, and he looked like a sad little boy. Hyeong-bae felt the minutest spark of guilt at the sight of him. He looked fragile and sick, but then Jiyong noticed him and his whole appearance changed in an instant. He suddenly looked healthier, energetic. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled politely then went to wash his hands at the sink. He transformed in the blink of an eye.  
  
It was weird.  
  
Then Hyeong-bae thought, _fuck it_. He was mostly drunk and Jiyong was visibly drunk too. In poverty, there was no room for scruples. He introduced himself and after a few stories, Jiyong's face lit up in recognition and he remembered him, _however much._ He brought Hyeong-bae back to his closed-off equivalent of a VIP room, now divested of any friends he may have been with previously, including the one from the bathroom, and he did exactly what Hyeong-bae wanted. He paid for their drinks. They told stupid stories from way back when, and a few more recent tales of success and then woe. Any vague feelings of being disgruntled at child-Jiyong or the successful G-Dragon of today went away, because 26 year old Kwon Jiyong was pitiful.  
  
Hyeong-bae told him about losing his job and his girlfriend, and instead of looking down his nose, Jiyong seemed to understand. He had a look on his face that said it all.  
  
Jiyong got a call after an hour and took it elsewhere for a while. He was gone for twenty minutes but he left behind an open tab and Hyeong-bae was content to drink as much as he possibly could on someone else's dime. When Jiyong came back, he looked a little paler, a little dishevelled but when he sat down, he seemed to perk up again. He ordered more drinks and their talk went on.  
  
It wasn't until a little after that, forty-five minutes or so that Hyeong-bae really paid attention to Jiyong's appearance. He'd been too drunk to notice before but he'd started to slow down, he wanted to pace himself or the night would be over too soon. He'd throw up in a gutter and miss out on all the freebies.  
  
While he was talking now, he noticed Jiyong's eyes would go out of focus. He would almost fall asleep, briefly, for short bursts over and over. His eyes would close and then he would jolt seconds later like waking up. Hyeong-bae felt affronted, free drinks aside, but then Jiyong's hand on the table began to shake. He thought selfishly and realistically that Jiyong had grown tired of him. Being famous, maybe normal people didn't cut it any more, but that theory didn't last.  
  
'Are you okay?' he asked.  
  
Jiyong didn't say anything back. He just stared with wide open eyes. His pupils were dilated and his breathing slowed. Hyeong-bae looked around then, exasperated. He didn't want to be responsible for this. He just wanted to get drunk but Jiyong was zoning out and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't just _leave_ him there and where were all his friends? There was nobody around. Hyeong-bae hit the table lightly to get his attention, 'Hey! Did you take something?'  
  
Thinking all the while, _'You stupid asshole. You're just an irresponsible kid! What are you thinking?'_ but Jiyong looked back at him confused.  
  
Jiyong replied slowly, 'No?' and Hyeong-bae groaned, sobering up from the expectation of what he was going to have to do.  
  
'Come on, i'll find a taxi for you'.  
  
Ten minutes later, Jiyong had deteriorated quickly and it was the feat of a lifetime, still drunk himself, that Hyeong-bae managed to shove himself and Jiyong into a taxi out the back without anyone seeing or taking happy snaps with their cell phones.  
  
That was only the start of his problems.  
  
Jiyong couldn't remember where he lived. He kept falling asleep in short bursts. He became testy, like a petulant child who just wanted to sleep in. Like Hyeong-bae was his mother, trying to rouse him from a pleasant dream.  
  
'Where do you live? I need your address!'  
  
_'… somewhere near the water'._  
  
'Is that it? A number! I need a number! I need a street!’  
  
It took five minutes of hushed scolding and pinches for Jiyong to wake up enough to say coherently, _'I don't remember,'_ before his eyes closed again.  
  
Hyeong-bae could see the driver watching them in the mirror, growing irritated at being told to simply 'drive around' for a while. Hyeong-bae eventually reached for Jiyong's wallet, pulling it out of his too-tight pants so he could get the address off his license. After that, it was a short ride to Jiyong's apartment. He threw every note in Jiyong's wallet on the front seat, five times what the fare cost with a pleading, ' _this never happened!'_ to the driver.  
  
The driver was young, young enough that he could see Jiyong's face on the tv and recognise him now, and there was no way Jiyong was simply drunk. He prayed to god this wouldn't end up in a paper or on the news the next morning.  
  
After a few hard pinches in his side, Jiyong woke up enough to put his pin code in to allow them access to the building and then it was a simple task of shoving him into the elevator and trying to pry out the information of 'what floor!?'  
  
Jiyong finally conked out after a quiet, 'sixteen' and by the time the elevator doors opened on his floor, Jiyong was unconscious; Hyeong-bae dragged down by his dead weight.  
  
Then there was the dog.  
  
The second he opened the door and dropped Jiyong onto the ground, a dog the size of a small horse came tearing up the hallway and barked so loudly, Hyeong-bae thought of running away. The dog jumped on him, and when he told him to shut up, tried to bite him.  
  
He changed tact then.  
  
_'Who's a good boy? You're a good boy! Shhhh, good dog!'_  
  
Five minutes and a few stomach rubs later, the dog was placated and sniffing around Jiyong's face, licking the side of his neck, looking vaguely worried at the lack of response.  
  
'I know, I know,' Hyeong-bae whispered. 'But he's fine. He is'.  
  
But then he wondered, because Jiyong wouldn't wake up. Not exactly. He checked his pulse, he rifled through his pockets and wallet and when he couldn't find anything he went to the bathroom and opened every door, searched the counter and every hiding place he could find. There weren't any drugs, not anywhere. He didn't know what Jiyong had taken and without that, how could he help him.  
  
He only had two choices. He could try to help him there and risk killing him or call an ambulance and ruin his life. If he had an overdose, _if that's what this_ _was_ , there was no coming back from that. It was a career killer.  
  
He slapped him once or twice across the face and Jiyong's eyelids would flicker for an instant, then he'd slip back into unresponsiveness.  
  
Hyeong-bae eventually made a choice. He'd throw him in the shower or the bath and if he didn't wake up then, he was calling an ambulance. He didn't have any experience with this. He didn't know if Jiyong was only drunk, just unconscious the way people get after big nights out, or if this was something worse. He didn't know.  
  
Once he dragged Jiyong into the bathroom, he seemed different suddenly. Worse. Jiyong's face went pale and his lips seemed a little blue and then right before his eyes, he couldn't breathe. Jiyong's chest started to lift off the ground; just a little, a few millimetres at a time. His mouth fell open and it sounded like he was choking.  
  
Hyeong-bae froze. He didn't know what to do. What if he died? If Jiyong died. G Dragon. National star. If he fucking _died,_ it would be his fault. He had brought him home and hadn’t called an ambulance. He'd be responsible. He'd be sent to prison for the rest of his life. What did they call that? Involuntary manslaughter?  
  
Then Jiyong stopped moving altogether. He was deathly still and Hyeong-bae felt real fear because what if he _was_ dead, _he looked dead._ No, No, No, No, No, he thought. This can't happen to me. _This can't happen to me! I just wanted a few free drinks!_  
  
He grabbed Jiyong roughly from the floor and hauled him over to the bathtub. Not knowing what else to do he stuck his fingers as far down his throat as they would go. He'd seen it in movies and if Jiyong threw up, maybe whatever he'd taken would come out? Right?  
  
Jiyong struggled against him, weakly, but he was _moving_. He was fighting him _and he wasn't fucking dead!_ Hyeong-bae moved his fingers. He got a better grip on Jiyong's waist and Jiyong finally threw up; half on his hand but that didn’t matter because _he wasn't dead._  
  
Jiyong threw up and threw up again, and when he finished dry-heaving and went limp again, Hyeong-bae pulled him back, sat him on the floor and held him upright, with his hand over his chest so he could feel a heartbeat. As long as he could feel a heartbeat, they were both okay.  
  
Jiyong slipped into unconsciousness again but he looked better now. His skin was pink and he was breathing normally. He just looked like he was asleep and when he tried to wake him, Jiyong would groan like he had done in the taxi. Like he was having a pleasant dream and he didn't want to wake up. So, Hyeong-bae put him in bed and sat there watching him.  
  
He thought about leaving but the dog jumped on the bed and flopped down beside Jiyong's body, ready to go to sleep. It made Hyeong-bae feel guilty. If something happened to Jiyong, this dog would be left here unable to do anything, and Jiyong could die.  
  
_That could happen._  
  
And if it did happen the police would swarm the place like the fucking President had died and when they did forensics his fingerprints would be fucking everywhere. He had to stay until Jiyong woke up and was alright and could say 'Thanks, you're free to go!'  
  
He called a friend from university, a nurse he hadn't spoken to in three years, who seemed reasonably testy at being woken at 6am. He tried to discretely explain what had happened without naming any names.  
  
_Take them to a hospital._

– But I can't! He seems alright now! The media would know in five minutes!

_It doesn't matter!_

\- He said he didn't take anything though! Maybe it _'s_ just alcohol!

_There are no drugs on them? In the house?_

\- No, I looked. Just some sleeping pills and some aspirin. There's nothing.

_Look, take them to hospital. That's all I can say to you. If something happens to them, you're responsible for their life._  
  
So Hyeong-bae said, 'Okay!' aggrieved. He hung up and for a few quiet moments he was perfectly prepared to bite the bullet and call an ambulance but he looked at Jiyong and couldn't do it. He couldn't be responsible for this. He couldn't have anything to do with this. So, he sat there instead and watched him. Every so often he'd check his pulse and sit back down.  
  
After a while, the smell of vomit on Jiyong's clothes started to make him sick, so he shook him a few times to make sure was unconscious and then stripped him down, covering him with a blanket. He changed him, with difficulty, into the baggiest clothes he could find.  
  
Jiyong was dead to the world, until he wasn't.  
  
12/13/14 hours later while in the kitchen, he heard vomiting. Jiyong was in the bathroom he had just scrubbed clean with bleach. And then that whole escapade all over again. He couldn’t breathe. He had a panic attack.  
  
Hyeong-bae didn't think he was dying the second time. He just looked scared. He had worked himself up. Hyeong-bae wasn't taking any chances though, so he slapped him on the back and told him to breathe. He did an exercise like a school nurse guiding an upset child, and that’s what it was like. It was like looking after a child.  
  
He aged ten years in the space of a few hours and now Jiyong is sat across from him with wide eyes, shaking his head as though he can't believe it.  
  
'No,' he says. 'I wouldn't do anything like that. It's not possible'.  
  
But it is. Hyeong-bae was there. He saw him. He cleaned his piss and his vomit from the bathroom floor and he had hated him for it, but now, Jiyong doesn't seem like the adult that he is. He seems like a scared and confused child and Hyeong-bae lets any resentment within him go.

'I didn't take anything,' Jiyong repeats. 'I swear'.  
  
Hyeong-bae finds his story wanting but he doesn't want to upset him by saying otherwise.  
  
'Look, you said you don't remember anything. How do you know you didn't take anything? I'm not a Doctor but I've never seen drunk people do that before’.  
  
Jiyong shouts, 'Hey!' and hits the table with his fist, a pained expression on his face. His voice edges out of him shakily, 'I said I didn't!'  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs casually, 'If you say so'.  
  
'I wouldn't,' Jiyong snaps. 'No matter what, I wouldn't do _that_!'  
  
'And why not?' He asks.  
  
Jiyong just pulls a face of disgust that morphs into 30 other expressions in a few short seconds. He has a strangely expressive face. Hyeong-bae imagines it's difficult for him to lie.  
  
He pulls his phone out while Jiyong is lost in his own world and looks up alcohol poisoning to prove his point. Unfortunately, it actually does seem to fit, mostly, what had happened to him and he wonders with irritation that his friend hadn't said so on the phone. When he finishes reading, he slides his phone across the table in lieu of an apology. He figures it might make Jiyong feel better to know what happened to him. Alcohol poisoning is better than a drug overdose, right?  
  
Jiyong picks the phone up tentatively and begins to read. His expression becomes more angry with each passing second. Hyeong-bae worries too late that Jiyong might throw his phone at the wall. He doesn't do that though. His anger seems to pass and he slides the phone back over the tabletop, wincing, like he has a headache.  
  
'I've done a lot of stupid things lately,' he says carefully. 'But I wouldn't drink enough for that. I'm always careful, I would never let that happen'.  
  
'Well you obviously did,' Hyeong-bae says, tucking his phone back into his pants where it's safe. He gets up and fills the glass from the table with water and sits back down, pushing it over to Jiyong's side.  
  
'That article said you have to stay hydrated,' he says in explanation. 'You drank a few times during the night and this-morning but you were half asleep. You should drink more now that you're awake'.  
  
Jiyong looks surprised by the gesture but picks it up and drinks it in one go. Then he seems to disappear again. His eyes go out of focus and he stares at one point on the table between them. Every so often his face changes and he gives away an emotion that seems to come from nowhere.  
  
'Are you having a moment?' Hyeong-bae asks. Curiosity and boredom both. He is getting antsy. He is hungry and tired and someone else's emotional turmoil is too much to deal with in long bouts, however understandable. He has damn near saved his life. He has done enough now.  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
'Just thinking'.  
  
Hyeong-bae raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask for more explanation. Jiyong has everything, money, friends, fame, a whole big beautiful life. He doesn't see that Jiyong has any reason to be drinking himself to death. It makes him a little resentful now in the fading light that Jiyong, so lucky, could somehow hate any part of his life. He suddenly feels short tempered and fed up. Where is the gratitude for saving his life?  
  
'I don't mean to sound insensitive. I understand you've had a near death experience and are having an episode right now but I’m very hungry and very tired now, but mostly hungry. I think you owe me some dinner, at the very least’.  
  
Jiyong's eyes widen and he looked mortified.  
  
'I think you could order me in some food before I die from starvation,' Hyeong-bae says _._  
  
Jiyong looks shocked. In some underused part of Hyeong-bae’s mind he expected Jiyong to be the type of person who appreciated honesty. He realises afterwards, there are probably better ways ---  
  
But Jiyong laughs. He _laughs_ or not quite a laugh but close enough. His mouth opens wide and he bares all his teeth and lets his head drop to the table. Hyeong-bae isn't sure what to do about that. Maybe this kid is demented.  
  
Jiyong rubs his eyes and winces, like he underestimated his headache. He leans back in his chair lazily and gives the 'OK' symbol with his fingers.  
  
'There are take-out menus somewhere. In the second drawer to the right of the sink,' Jiyong says. 'I think'. His voice is free of malice or hurt or irritation. 'I guess I'm paying,' he adds with a sleepily raised eyebrow.  
  
Hyeong-bae grimaces and opens the drawer, 'Uhh yeah,' he replies. 'And I'm pretty hungry so you better find your credit card. It's gonna be a big bill'.  
  
Jiyong smiles and closes his eyes.  
  
'Memories of you are coming back to me'.  


 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  
'That's all the video you have?' Jiyong asks. 'There's nothing else?'  
  
The man shakes his head and throws his hands up in affirmation.   
  
'That's all there is'.  
  
Some of Jiyong's fingers unbind themselves from his crossed arms as he watches the video again, past the thinning hair of the guy in front of him. The video is paused now, blurry between frames, but Jiyong has seen it three times now and it never changes. Black and white, the video is stopped on his own lilting head on one side of a table oppositely occupied by his auspicious hero.  
  
'And after that?' Jiyong presses. 'I want to see it again'.  
  
The man sighs but restarts the video all the same. On the screen Hyeong-bae lurches awkwardly into motion and stands. Jiyong, the one on the screen _,_ doesn't. He watches as Hyeong-bae looks around nervously and runs a hand through his hair. Jiyong's fuzzy counterpart on the screen soon disappears behind Hyeong-bae's back as he is pulled to his feet and walked out of frame.  
  
The video pauses again.  
  
'That's it,' the man says again. 'Like I said, after that you're out of sight. There aren't any cameras covering the back exit'.  
  
The video jumps back to the start like he anticipates another impassioned plea to watch it ' _one more time_ ' but Jiyong has had enough. There aren't any cameras covering the toilets and he's seen everything there is to see. He has pored over every detail of the evening, to the chagrin of his babysitter, whose constant reminders of ' _I could lose my job for this!_ ' have cost Jiyong a fortune in discrete bribes. 'Just once more,' Jiyong would plead, slipping another note into the man's hand. 'It's important!'  
  
And it was, to him. After Hyeong-bae's reluctant withdrawal from what he'd affectionately dubbed 'the crime scene,' Jiyong had played it reasonably safe. He stayed in bed for days, drank enough water to drown himself in and used every bowl in the apartment, eating tasteless soup for the sake of keeping something down.  
  
On the fourth day, he had enough. Having nothing to do for days but pore over his own actions, he finally drove himself insane. At first, he blamed himself for being weak and irresponsible. He would wallow and groan and ask Gaho in increasingly pathetic tones if he really was that fucking dumb, to which the mislaid response always meant 'yes'.  
  
_Yes,_ Gaho's eyes would say; you ruined your relationship somehow. You became a shut-in. You've been a bad friend. You've been teetering on the edge of alcoholism. Yes.  
  
Teetering, Gaho would say, because that's what Jiyong made him say. He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just going through a rough patch and they were easily distinguishable. _Alcoholic._ The word grated on his nerves. Sure, he drank his problems away until he ended up blue on the bathroom floor, but that wasn't necessarily the mark of an alcoholic. That was just a mistake.  
  
Still, Jiyong conceded it was _his_ mistake.  
  
Confined to his bed, he went through the full history of his transgressions, relived them in clarity and felt the humiliation and regret for each of them, all over again. Recent ones, big ones, small ones. He went as far back as the fourth grade when he stole a girl’s lunch from her backpack. He remembered lying to his father when he was fourteen, breaking the window of a neighbour’s house and running away when he was twelve. Everything and anything. Every stupid thing he'd ever done.  
  
The longer he lay there unable to move, unable to get up and stretch and punch walls and vent that anger he felt inside, the heavier the truth became. He was made up of mistakes. A thousand little mistakes and a few big ones which held him together.  
  
He had spent so long telling himself he was infallible. He was strong, he was a leader, he was an icon. He was G-Dragon and G-Dragon was perfect. Even when his mistakes grew above themselves, became 'scandals' and threatened everything he had, he seemed to skate on by, never really injured by them. He would lock the hurt away and move on with his life, always moving forward.  
  
He never acknowledged the mistakes, not like this.  
  
Then again ---  
  
To acknowledge them was to accept culpability for the way things had turned out. For ending up breathless on the bathroom floor. For Seunghyun leaving him. It was a vicious cycle of trying to place blame somewhere because it _had_ to go somewhere. His life had fallen apart and it was someone's fault. It was too hard, too distasteful and too disappointing to think it was his fault alone.  
  
Left alone, Jiyong switched disparately from one opinion to the other. Sometimes it was all his fault, he was responsible for his choices and his life. Other times he felt victimised, like he never had a chance either way. His emotions would swing violently from one end of the spectrum to the other. He would pick up a phone, thinking the words he wanted to say, 'I need a little help'. He'd visualise his fingers on the keys dialling Seungri's number. Seungri was the only person he really trusted now. The only person who'd seen him at his worst already---  
  
Then he'd hang up.  
  
How could he call Seungri after all this time and burden him with something like this, and what could he say? What help could Seungri give? After those moments Jiyong would swing the other way. So he had an accident? So, he probably got alcohol poisoning? Maybe he didn't. The only proof he had was the testimony of someone he hadn't seen in ten years who just _happened_ to be there on the night he went too far. Maybe he was drugged. Maybe Hyeong-bae had planned everything with some ulterior motive in mind.  
  
Jiyong thought about all of those things, bedridden, doing his best to recover with a semblance of dignity. He had reason and then he lost it. During one of the latter moments when his rasping voice had finally cleared, he phoned the cab company looking for the driver that night. He hadn't had to do it very often but Yang had taught him well enough how to pay someone off. Sometimes silence was key and while a Naver search for _'g-dragon cab'_ hadn't brought up any results, that wasn't to say they wouldn't. The last thing he needed was a video coming out of him unconscious in a taxi.  
  
So he paid the guy off, _who probably wasn't going to say anything anyway_ but took the money with an appreciative dignity it was probably hard to muster and Jiyong checked that off his to-do list. One problem solved and part of his missing evening accounted for. The man had corroborated Hyeong-bae's story to some extent. Jiyong couldn't outright ask him what he'd seen, but he heard enough 'we all drink a little too much sometimes' jibes, to get the gist of it.  
  
After that, what else was there? When he felt well enough and had spent enough time on a believable back-story, he rang the club looking for a favour. When he doled out the proffered words, ‘It’s G-Dragon ---' the previously disinterested manager offered him whatever he wanted.  
  
'I lost something --- or something was stolen from me. I need to see your security tapes'.  
  
_'It's really against the law to let you see those, I can't just ---'_  
  
But Jiyong waved the idea of a blank cheque over the phone line and the manager acquiesced with alarming speed, under the proviso someone on the security staff was there to coddle him for the duration. So there he was, in the darkened room in the back of the club, eyes darting from one security screen to another, watching himself do things he simply couldn't remember.  
  
From noon to 2pm, he watched every clip of himself he could find once, twice and again in slow motion. He hounded his own reflection, watched every twitch, every yawn, every laugh. When he found Hyeong-bae he did the same to him with more scrutiny than ever. He slipped the Security guy at the controls another bank note and told him, ' _Watch that guy_ '.  
  
He was looking to be exonerated. He was looking, earnestly, for some sign that Hyeong-bae was at fault, that he was lying about what had happened. To see him slip something into his drink when he wasn't looking would have come as a relief, because horror aside, that was better than the alternative; that there was no-one to blame but himself. He had gone out, drank himself to near-death and it was his own fault.  
  
That was too much. But it was true. His own reflection on a paused security screen in the dingy badly lit back-room of a second-rate club proved it. He drank himself into a stupor that night. It was uncomfortable to watch.  
  
Hyeong-bae wasn't lying.  
  
He was responsible for his own actions. All of them. Not just this one monumental fuck-up, but all of them dating back to when they first started to matter.

 

 

*

 

  
When he steps out of the club, the first niggling voice he hears in his head says, _'I could really use a drink'._ It's only when he makes it safely to the car that he recognises the urge.  
  
_'Jesus Christ,'_ he thinks.  
  
The dim realisation that he's a gigantic fuck-up is ultimately useless. It doesn't change anything. He fucked up. So what? How does he fix it? Does he _want_ to? If acceptance is step one, what comes after? He can feel the epiphany eke closer. That calm voice of resignation ready to announce in simple terms, _ask someone for help._ With both hands on the steering wheel, staring into space, he's ready to swallow that.  
  
Then his phone rings.  
  
Seungri.  
  
It's always Seungri, he's the only person who ever calls anymore and even then, hardly ever. With Jiyong's quiet withdrawal from the world, everyone seemed unanimously to understand. _Leave me alone_.  
  
He answers it without looking at the screen and manages, decently, to mask the tiredness stemming from his week-long hammering headache.  
  
'I thought you were staying in bed for a few days?' came the deep, most definitely not belonging to Seungri, voice.  
  
_Hyeong-bae._  
  
Jiyong hasn't heard from him in days, not since he lumbered reluctantly from the apartment days earlier. Jiyong never expected to hear from him again, least of all now, on the precipice of some great personal self-discovery. Hyeong-bae had asked for his cell phone number and, after everything, Jiyong thought it was the least he could do. Besides, they hadn't seen each-other for ten years. Maybe under different circumstances, catching up could be fun, provided they never mentioned this situation again for as long as they both lived.  
  
He never really expected him to call or rather hoped he wouldn't. Hyeong-bae was a reminder of what did happen and what almost happened. Not only that, in a foolish way, despite being exonerated of any wrongdoing, Jiyong resents him for his innocence. If he had seen him on the security tapes fingering pills into his unconscious mouth, he would have hated him less.  
  
As it stood, Hyeong-bae was a saint. He had done him a favour and asked for nothing in return except a bunch of egg rolls. Jiyong was just an asshole. He had taken up the role of the wealthy depressive alcoholic whose money couldn't buy them happiness. To Hyeong-bae, he was _that_ person. The last thing Jiyong wanted was this benevolent hero to rub it in his face, not that he actually thought he would.  
  
'I did stay in bed,' he answers after a lengthy silence. 'It's been a few days. Now I'm up again'.  
  
Hyeong-bae notices the less than welcoming tone and adopts a less enthusiastic one himself.  
  
'Is that a good idea?'  
  
'How do you know I'm not in bed right now?' Jiyong asks petulantly, looking around the carpark in vague suspicion.  
  
'I hear traffic'.  
  
'Oh,' he answers. _Obviously,_ as though a part of him had genuinely entertained the idea of being stalked. 'Well I'm fine,' he says. 'I'm one hundred percent fine. I slept it off, I ate soup, I even had a shower. Everything is back to normal, but thanks for checking in'.  
  
Jiyong puts his seatbelt on and throws his wallet and sunglasses on the passenger seat. He sounds irritated. He knows.  
  
'That's why you're calling right? To make sure I didn't die in my sleep?'  
  
He tries not to sound bitter or angry because he doesn't have the right, but he knows as well as Hyeong-bae does that those things are in his voice, making him look and feel like a prick all over again. Some gratitude.  
  
'Something like that,' Hyeong-bae answers, let down. 'I guess you've answered the question'.  
  
Jiyong's head falls back against the seat and he sighs quietly with his eyes closed. Hyeong-bae stayed after the 'incident,' three nights and half a day to watch over him. He had protested but Hyeong-bae kept reiterating the fact that his fingerprints were all over the apartment and if Jiyong died in his sleep, well --- Hyeong-bae was too sensitive for prison.  
  
'You've been in the army,' Jiyong had scoffed.  
  
'I cleaned a lot of toilets and ran around a field,' Hyeong-bae corrected. 'We weren't exactly at war when I was in there'.  
  
Headaches and frayed nerves aside, a part of Jiyong enjoyed the company. He was glad on some level to have somebody there when the lights went off and the world went quiet. When his head hit the pillow, his pulse would sound in his ears and he would have uncomfortable memories of feeling his heart shut up shop. He'd become hyper aware and panic. Hyeong-bae being in the apartment helped keep him calm.  
  
The day he left, they watched a movie on his couch and for the first time in a long while, Jiyong felt ordinary. Like the world wasn't ending. Jiyong told him to go though, he had to. He had to sort his life out. That was sort of a personal journey. One hard to make with a huge stupid guy lumbering around, making you breakfast and cleaning your house.  
  
In a way Hyeong-bae's presence annoyed him because he made him laugh. Jiyong wanted to mope around. His life was shit. Hyeong-bae being there, talking about movies Jiyong had never seen and writing his own raps, looking for honest criticism --- Jiyong found it hard to wallow.  
  
A nearby car honks it's horn and Jiyong jumps, startled. Hyeong-bae is still on the line, but he hasn't said anything. Jiyong has no idea how long it's been since either of them have spoken. He concedes that, maybe, he can spare a little time.  
  
'Sorry,' he proffers, trying to sound more pleasant. 'I've got a headache and it's hot and I'm sticking to the seat of my car. I didn't mean to sound like that'.  
  
There's a pause but Hyeong-bae answers in a tone that says all is forgiven.  
  
'I reject your apology on the grounds of it being bullshit, but I could use a coffee'.  
  
'So go make one'.  
  
Jiyong starts the car and pulls out of the car-park, putting the phone on speaker.  
  
'Wow,' Hyeong-bae answers, his voice tinny through the speakers. 'I think a coffee is the least you can do after being such a raging asshole’.  
  
Jiyong smiles despite himself, as he pulls into traffic.  
  
Hyeong-bae continues, 'You're basically Richie Rich but you can't buy a coffee for a war hero?’  
  
'Is that all it takes to buy your friendship?' Jiyong asks. ‘And how are you a war hero?'  
  
'I distinctly remember telling you last week about my bravery in the army. You're rude to me on the phone and now you're belittling my heroism?'  
  
'How much will that cost me?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Two coffees, maybe some dinner'.  
  
'Are you asking me on a dinner date?'  
  
'If that's what it takes to get a free dinner,' Hyeong-bae answers in jest.  
  
'Yeah, okay,' Jiyong says. 'Where do you want your coffee?'

  
  


*

 

  
When he speaks, Hyeong-bae has an easy way about him. Jiyong can't decide if he likes him or if he's just grateful for what he's done. He figures it's worth finding out. A few meals here and there are the least he can do.

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
  
His plan gets off to a rocky start.  
  
He ventures into the chosen cafe and sits down in the back. He's out amongst people for the first time in two months. He's out in the daytime where people can see him. Even with his jacket turned up and his sunglasses on, there are still people coming in and out who recognise him. He tries to focus on the table, on his hands, on his cell phone. He texts almost as soon as he sits down, _'Where are you?'_  
  
Hyeong-bae is ten minutes late. By the time he shows up, Jiyong's heart is almost beating outside his chest. His fingers are shaking in his pockets. He isn't ready to be out in public, it's been too long and it's too soon. He feels like a mess. He has the feeling that everyone is staring at him and he’s not wrong. He sees a flash from a cell phone and then another. He hears somebody ask, _'put your cameras away,_ ' and he's grateful but even after that, he can feel eyes on him still, behind cameras and cell phones. He can _feel_ them. He has the feeling he's transparent, that somehow, written on his face and in his reluctance to look up--- people can see his life story and everything he's done.  
  
He doesn't look great, even after a shower. His hair is unwashed and his skin still pale. He managed to shave but didn't do a good job. He nicked himself more than once, and there are bags beneath his eyes. He's lost weight. He looks like shit. Shit enough that a picture getting out would spread across the internet like wildfire. He doesn't want the world wondering why he looks awful, or connecting the dots. He doesn't want fans to make assumptions or relate his appearance and public withdrawal in any way to Seunghyun's absence.  
  
_Seunghyun._  
  
Being out in public, seeing the flash of cameras, however few, makes Seunghyun's absence more strongly felt because he simply isn't there. Usually when there are cameras, he is with somebody. Now, there's nobody.  
  
Except Hyeong-bae.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves his chair around to sit himself between Jiyong and the prying eyes of anyone still watching him. He is big enough that when Jiyong looks up, he honestly can't see past him. Hyeong-bae senses his agitation and looks at him dubiously from the seat opposite.  
  
'Hey. Are you okay?'  
  
Jiyong swallows down his anxiety, which has abated ever so slightly at the sight of someone familiar and smiles.  
  
'Fine’.  
  
He nods at the menu between them, unwilling to take his hands out of his pockets and says,

'Get whatever you want!'  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls a sceptical face and says, 'Alright,' though follows up with a collected, 'Something tells me these coffees are to go'.  
  
He understands and Jiyong is speechless. He's grateful too but it makes him nervous. If his anxiety is so obvious to Hyeong-bae, it must be obvious to everyone. Every fan who snapped a picture, and every fan who didn't.  
  
'What do you want?' Hyeong-bae asks a minute later.  
  
'Nothing,' Jiyong answers. 'I'm fine'.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods appreciatively. He stands up and holds his hand out over the table. 'Give me your wallet'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his wallet from his pocket and Hyeong-bae takes it from his shaking fingers, unsurprised. He says, 'I'll be back in a minute,' and as an afterthought, 'don't flee'.  
  
Jiyong watches him all the way to the counter and doesn't avert his eyes. Hyeong-bae provides a sense of calm in the midst of his anxiety. He watches him talk to the girl at the cash register, watches him point out too many things from the display case. Jiyong only looks away when Hyeong-bae looks back.  
  
Parts of him still make Jiyong nervous.  
  
He handed over his wallet without thinking about it. Hyeong-bae asked and he gave. All his cards are in there, all his leftover cash from his bribe spree. He worries dully if that's a side effect of someone saving your life. You trust them implicitly, without wanting to. Maybe it's Hyeong-bae's age. He's thirty, maybe thirty-one, Jiyong hasn't asked. You just trust older people to look after you.  
  
Either way, when Hyeong-bae makes it back to the table, Jiyong snatches his wallet back with his mouth hanging open.  
  
'You said two coffees. _Jesus_!'  
  
Hyeong-bae looks down at the two bursting bags in his hands and shrugs, confusedly. 'I'm sorry, can you see my frame? I need a lot of sustenance’.  
  
Jiyong's anxiety temporarily dissipates amidst a new font of outrage and humour in one. It's refreshing, funny even to have someone be so unapologetic. People don't speak to him that way anymore, like he's just a guy or a friend. People speak to him like he's G-Dragon and Hyeong-bae doesn't do that.  
  
'Is this what will happen if I keep seeing you? You'll just buy out every store on the block? How much did this cost?'  
  
'Do you care?' Hyeong-bae asks seriously.  
  
'No'.  
  
'See, that's a good attitude to have. What a great guy! The girl at the cash register got a large tip, courtesy of G-Dragon. She was very pleased. She'll probably tell somebody'.  
  
'How big was her tip?'  
  
'120,000원'  
  
'That's just showy. I look like an asshole’.  
  
‘Please,' Hyeong-bae says, biting into a bun. 'No one cares,' followed by an equally unintelligible, 'this bun is amazing'.  
  
Jiyong's anxiety has dissipated completely by the time they make it to the car. Instead of the hammering in his chest, there's something else. A sense of fun almost. Hyeong-bae is making him laugh. When Jiyong gets back to his car, he catches his reflection in the window and looks away, embarrassed. He's smiling and it's genuine and though he doesn't know why, he feels a pang of shame.  
  
Hyeong-bae follows him and is standing there now, with an entirely different cake disappearing into his mouth.  
  
'Let me guess, you need a ride!' Jiyong proffers.  
  
'I took the bus,' Hyeong-bae answers between mouthfuls. 'So yeah'.  
  
'How old are you?' Jiyong asks. 'Twelve?'  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls a face and holds the cake in front of his chest, pointing it accusatorily at Jiyong.  
  
‘We can’t all afford a Bentley! Sue me’.  
  
Jiyong unlocks the door and holds it open for him, 'Don't eat in this car. If there is a single crumb on that leather seat when you get out, you are banned for life. I'm not joking’.  
  
Hyeong-bae holds his hands up, bags and all, in supplication.  
  
'I swear on my Grandmothers life'.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

'What? Not used to seeing how the other half live?'  
  
Jiyong is startled from his reverie, taking in Hyeong-bae's starkly unadorned apartment, if you could even call it that. It's a glorified room with a kitchen and a toilet. He can almost count the items in it on one sweep.  
  
'No,' he answers. 'I wasn't thinking that'.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles.   
  
'It's fine. I know how It looks'.  
  
Jiyong sits down on the couch. It’s the only real furniture in the room. It must be a fold-out because there isn't a separate room for Hyeong-bae to sleep in. 'It looks fine,' he says earnestly.  
  
'You've got simple taste then'.  
  
Hyeong-bae sits on the opposite end of the couch and dumps his haul from the cafe onto the cushion between them. He did, to his credit, resist temptation in the car and Jiyong is grateful that he won't be finding crumbs on the passenger seat in six months-time. The only person immune to the _no food in the car_ rule, unofficially, was Seunghyun and Jiyong didn't like him doing it either. It was just that he did it anyway and Jiyong had no way of making him get out or of stopping him beforehand.  
  
Hyeong-bae tears open the bag of sweets from the cafe and Jiyong reluctantly takes a proffered doughnut on its third sweep past his face.  
  
'Not hungry still?'  
  
'I don't like sweet things,' he says in explanation.  
  
Out of politeness, he picks a bit of dough from the edge and rolls it between his fingers. Hyeong-bae looks bemused but doesn't say anything. They just sit for a while in silence. Hyeong-bae eats and Jiyong picks apart his donut, piece by piece.  
  
The window is open and periodically, a breeze sweeps up the faded curtains. Jiyong watches them silently. Apart from the couch they're sitting on, there isn't much else to look at. There is a TV on the opposite wall and a small table low to the ground. There is a pair of shoes and a newspaper.  
  
'Why don't you have any furniture?' he asks. 'Is this a fold-out?'  
  
His hand smooths over the faded upholstery of the lounge and Hyeong-bae makes a quiet sound.  
  
'Yeah. Not all of us have money, superstar. Some of us actually struggle to get by'.  
  
It's not meant as an accusation but it makes Jiyong uncomfortable. He can remember being thirteen, standing in Hyeong-bae's enormous house, praying that one day he'd have what they had. They lived in a large house, they had a pool, a huge television, the best computer, the best games, they dressed nicely. They were wealthy. He feels affronted to be the victim of a jibe about money. He earned his. Hyeong-bae inherited.  
  
He wonders how Hyeong-bae's family lost their money or if they even did at all. Maybe it's just Hyeong-bae who lost his. He isn't in the mood to ask. He looks away. Hyeong-bae so openly spent his money back in the cafe, maybe he needs it. Maybe he has no money of his own. Maybe he bought all this food because he's hungry, Jiyong thinks.  
  
He wonders quietly, if this is what Hyeong-bae wants from him.  
  
Money.  
  
He wonders if he should ask. Get it out of the way. Like a prostitute getting paid up front, he thinks. He can do that. He doesn't mind. Money is money, he has enough, he doesn't use it.  
  
'Do you need some money?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Hyeong-bae reacts by degrees. Affronted, bitter and then proud. He puts down the cake in his hand and wipes his fingers on his pants. Jiyong doesn't know what he expected to happen.  
  
'You think I brought you up here so you'd give me some money?'  
  
Jiyong looks away.  
  
'I'm asking you for a pay-out?’ Hyeong-bae continues. ‘I saved your life, now give me some cash?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs but doesn't turn around. He looks out the open window. It crossed his mind. Why shouldn't it? He’s lost count of all the people he cared about who were only after money or nice things, opportunity, a place to stay or fame. He understood why people did it. He didn't resent them for it. Even if Hyeong-bae isn't after money, he needs it. Jiyong has it. It seems childish to refuse.  
  
'So what?' Jiyong asks, 'If you want some, I'll give it you. Fair is fair'.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs.  
  
'Wow, some world you must live in. I guess money solves all your problems, huh?'  
  
Jiyong follows Hyeong-bae's lead and puts down the doughnut he's been picking at. He sighs quietly and moves to wipe his hands on his pants. He hesitates. There's red around his fingernails. Red bean. It was in the donut.  
  
'No,' he answers. 'Money doesn't solve everything'.

 

'I guess not. I'm sure it solves enough though'.  
  
'Nothing important,' Jiyong replies, wiping his hand at last. He brushes the sugar from his knee but it's all still there, red beneath his fingernails.  
  
'Well, maybe you're right,’ Hyeong-bae says placatingly. ‘You don't drink yourself into a coma without having some problems’.  
  
'That was an accident’.  
  
Jiyong tries to use the fingernails from his other hand to get the red out from the other but his nails aren't long enough. He can't get it out. His heart suddenly beats faster, and his nerves fray. It’s like someone has flicked a switch. 'Can I use your sink?' And then he's there with his hands under the tap, willing the water to wash it all away. The grime and the memories along with it.  
  
He hasn't seen bean paste in months, he's avoided it entirely. It's so stupid. It’s such a small thing but the sight of it makes him sick. He's hardly thought about Seunghyun in weeks, he has been so wrapped up in his own problems, he didn't have the energy, but now --- for the first time in weeks he is seeing something so linked in his own mind with Seunghyun, that his hands begin to shake. He can see Seunghyun's face, see his smile --- his laugh whenever he ate this shit. It was his favourite.  
  
Seunghyun made a vow, months before he left, not to buy read bean buns anymore. Jiyong had made him some from scratch for a special occasion, and Seunghyun said it was different after that. The association in his mind had changed. Red bean buns were now a happy and meaningful gift, not a careless snack when hungry; as if Jiyong's abysmal effort was so fantastic and transcendent, no other substitute would do. If Seunghyun bought them from a store, it wouldn't be the same.  
  
It was a sentimental vow and so romantic and so unlike Seunghyun at all that Jiyong almost didn't believe him, but the weeks dragged on and he kept his word. He just didn't buy them anymore. This thing that he loved --- he just went without. He didn't have to do that. Jiyong didn't understand why he ever did at all, but it meant something to him. It was important.  
  
Seunghyun did that. He made that gesture because that's just who he was. He didn't know how to express himself properly. He couldn't buy a gift and say _I love you_. That wasn't enough. He had to show his feelings in his own way. Jiyong really loved that about him. Even when he said _I love you,_ it was different. He used his eyes, his hands, his lips. They weren't just words. It was just different with him. It always was.  
  
Seunghyun was _different._  
  
And then he left.  
  
Jiyong's hands tremble. His face contorts, almost in pain. He tries to hold back an outburst of emotion he's unprepared for. It isn't fair. It's been months and he still loves him. He _loves_ him, after all this time and it isn't fair. He _misses_ him.  
  
He doesn't want to be alone anymore.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves in beside him and turns the tap off. Jiyong jumps, startled. He shrinks back so violently he hits the wall two feet behind him. It's instinctive. His body reacts without corroboration from his mind. It simply pulls him away.  
  
Hyeong-bae is standing there with his hands raised the way they were in his apartment days earlier, like he's approaching a spooked animal, like he's saying _it's okay --- everything is fine_ but, all of a sudden, it _isn't_ fine.  
  
He had _wanted_ to come up to the apartment. He wanted to sit here and listen to Hyeong-bae tell stories and jokes and make him laugh the way he had done on the phone. He wanted to use him for the calm he had brought into his chaos while they were in the café. He wanted to feel safe and he didn't want to feel alone.  
  
It's too soon.  
  
Too soon to go out in public, too soon to think he could simply spend time with somebody –- a coffee during the day, it's too much. He isn't ready. He looks down at his fingers. They're clean, but red and sore. He can feel them now. He was scrubbing them too hard. His fingertips are raw.  
  
'I have to go home,' he says. 'Sorry. Thank-you for … I don't know, _coffee.'_  
  
'Thanks for the coffee you _didn't_ have?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Gee, that's okay. You're welcome'.  
  
Jiyong just wants to go home. He can't explain it, he just wants to get out of here. He wants to be alone. He wants to scream or never speak again, he can't ever decide. He feels memories and emotions trying to claw their way out of him. He feels an impending collapse. He has to go. He moves past Hyeong-bae and doesn't look back. He doesn't make eye-contact, _doesn't care._ When he reaches the door, a hand grips his shoulder and pulls him back inside and instead of lashing out or violently pulling away, Jiyong freezes.  
  
'Hold on. What's the matter with you?'  
  
_He's touching me._  
  
Hyeong-bae is holding him. His hand is on him and Jiyong's eyes close to control himself. He feels something, a tightening in his chest and he doesn't know whether his impending outburst will be latent hurt or anger. He doesn't know if he'll cry or scream but he wants to do it in private. He doesn't want to be touched, _please don't touch me,_ he thinks. He begins to shake and Hyeong-bae lets him go.  
  
'What's the matter with you?' Hyeong-bae asks again, trying to sound patently non-threatening.  
  
_It doesn't matter._  
  
Jiyong just goes for the door, he turns the handle and pulls it open but it shuts abruptly in his face. Hyeong-bae's hand is above him holding it closed. Jiyong tries to open it despite that but can't do it. Hyeong-bae works out, he has a natural advantage – height and size --- Jiyong has spent the last 2 months in bed; he can hardly open jars anymore he's lost so much muscle mass.  
  
He lays his forehead on the back of the door and takes a deep breath.  
  
'Open the door'.  
  
'I can't if you're leaning on it,' Hyeong-bae answers facetiously.  
  
Jiyong bites his lip and takes a step back, enough for it to open, enough for Hyeong-bae to do something, but the door doesn't move. His face contorts in sudden hurt, his emotions threatening to take over. He wills it under control. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. He has no reason to be upset. He can't explain what's happening, only that there's _something_ coming --- some outburst he can't beat back. Something long overdue.  
  
He turns slowly but keeps his gaze on the floor, on Hyeong-bae's shoes that are too close to his own.  
  
'Jiyong?'  
  
Hyeong-bae has a deep voice. Jiyong has noticed before, but now, with thoughts of Seunghyun circling his head? It's _familiar._ They have the same sort of voice in a way, except Seunghyun's is unique and Hyeong-bae's, his is regular --- but to hear his name now, more than at any other time, said in a deep voice? It makes his heart ache.  
  
'Let me out,' he says.   
  
'Not yet. What's _wrong_ with you?'  
  
Hyeongbae puts his free hand on his arm, a kind of supportive gesture and without meaning to, Jiyong shoves him. With all his strength Jiyong _shoves_ Hyeong-bae so hard that he stumbles back and almost loses balance. He only rights himself when he hits the corner of the wall. He is winded.  
  
The door is free now and Jiyong is going to leave but Hyeong-bae is standing there with a hand on his chest where he was hit and he looks startled _._ It's strange but Jiyong just calms down. Just like that.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he says, embarrassed. 'I didn't mean to --- I _told_ you to let me out'.  
  
Hyeong-bae replies in the same tone, 'It's fine. I should have'. He goes around the corner and sits on the couch and Jiyong wants to leave now. He has been so desperate to get out, to breathe again --- but now he can't move. The fight within him leaves as quickly as it came. The outburst simply shrinks back. It disappears down inside of him until he can't feel it anymore.  
  
'Maybe you should use some of your money to take an anger management course’, Hyeong-bae suggests from out of sight.  
  
Jiyong laughs, one syllable that's more of a sob than anything else. He sits down where he stands. He slides down the wall and crosses his legs. There's silence again, and he can breathe.  
  
'What's your problem anyway? What the hell was that?' Hyeong-bae calls out after a perceptibly safe amount of time. Jiyong's eyes close.  
  
‘I remembered something’.  
  
‘Triggered by a donut? What sort of furious memories do you get from donuts?’  
  
Jiyong laughs again, though muted. That's what happened though, wasn't it? An outburst because of a doughnut. Because of something old. A wound that wouldn't heal. Something childish.  
  
'It was someone --- .The red-bean in the cake,' Jiyong says. ‘It was their favourite food’.  
  
A moment ago, the thought of Seunghyun made Jiyong physically sick and now he's empty, tired, worn out. Seunghyun does that. Maybe that's why he started drinking in the first place --- every time he had a memory, it would catch him off guard. He'd scream or smash something into pieces and then it was gone --- just like that. Memories of Seunghyun were fleeting and the feelings didn't last. Maybe that's what happened when people died, Jiyong thought. You started to forget them --- they simply disappeared and your memories and the mood swings, they simply went away with them.  
  
He didn't know if he wanted them to.  
  
There's silence for a while but Hyeong-bae asks, tentatively, like he's spent the silence wondering whether or not to ask, 'What person?'  
  
Jiyong frowns. He opens his eyes and stares at the wall in front of him.  
  
'Someone I loved'.  
  
And it feels good to say that, _someone I loved._  
  
'Family? Girlfriend?'  
  
_Both,_ he thinks.  
  
'Girlfriend'.  
  
Because that's what Seunghyun will have to be, he realises. Forever. If he ever wants to speak about him or their life together, he'll have to become somebody else. A girl. His _girl_ friend. Jiyong tries to imagine this girl in his head --- the girl he'll tell people about. He tries to imagine _any_ girl who could be what Seunghyun was to him.  
  
Brown hair, dark eyes, tall. She'd kiss his eyelids to wake him up and have dimples when she smiled. She'd leave clothes across the floor and play with Gaho when he was away. She'd go on drives with him just to spend an hour together and make time for lunch dates even when there wasn't any time. She'd spend the night and laugh with him, would touch him and kiss him and _love_ him. She'd be everything that Seunghyun was and did.  
  
And she would leave him.  
  
Because that's what _Seunghyun_ did.  
  
'I guess you broke up?' Hyeong-bae asks delicately.  
  
Jiyong runs a hand through his unwashed hair and replies quietly, 'No'.  
  
'You're still together?'  
  
'No'.  
  
There's a silence after that that neither of them know how to fill. Hyeong-bae eventually shuffles out from around the corner and sits down a few feet away, with his legs out in front of him, back against the opposite wall.  
  
'I'm dying to know,' he says teasingly. 'Explain the riddle'.  
  
Jiyong smiles and looks down at his hands.  
  
'They left,' he says. ' _I knew_ \---'.  
  
He tries to get his thoughts in order. He wonders how a person can even explain a situation like his. Hyeong-bae waits quietly. He doesn't move, he isn't a distraction. Jiyong is grateful. He wants to talk about it.

'She,' he starts. _She. She. Remember that,_ he thinks. _She._ 'She just left me. We had lunch one day and she seemed distracted. We went back to my place and that was it. I could see it on her face. We were over. She didn't say it though, she told me she loved me instead. She said _I'll see you tomorrow_ and then she disappeared’.  
  
'What do you mean she disappeared? _Missing_ disappeared?'  
  
Jiyong laughs quietly and shoots Hyeong-bae a look that says it all.  
  
'No, she went overseas. People told me after. The day after she walked out on me, she hopped on a plane to Japan'.  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls a face and Jiyong nods.  
  
'Other people knew --- and I went to her place, looking for I don't know what. An explanation? The cupboards were empty, the power was off. She planned to go before she went. The last time we were together, she would have known she was leaving'.  
  
'And she said to you … see you tomorrow? And then left?'  
  
'See you tomorrow,' Jiyong repeats quietly.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs loudly, just one loud syllable, almost a scoff of disbelief.  
  
'What a bitch!'  
  
After another silence, Hyeong-bae adopts a more consolatory tone, 'Sorry. No-one deserves that'.  
  
Jiyong swallows down the rising hurt and says aloud for the first time, to himself let alone anyone else.  
  
'I know'.  
  
_I didn't deserve it._  
  
'How long were you together?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs and rubs his eyes gently.  
  
_Unofficially_ how long had they been together? Long enough. He couldn't even say.  
  
'A few years'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks surprised, as though a few years is nothing, a mere drop in the pond and Jiyong knows, really, that's true, but he and Seunghyun were _more_ than that time. Their history together went further and deeper than those thousand and something days.  
  
They weren't even properly dating before they first said _I love you_ to each-other and that said it all. Before they even understood their exclusivity, two adults in a real relationship with real stakes and real feelings, there was a long and winding lead up. There were two rocky years between the first drunk kiss and _Do you think, maybe, you might want to live with me?_  
  
At the start it was one long fumble in the dark. Jiyong didn't know what he was doing and Seunghyun didn't either, but you didn't need a degree to know that. Seunghyun was this awkward bumbling mass of confusion and restraint and it all started quietly --- with a game. While they were both drunk, Jiyong found this immutable pleasure in seeing how far Seunghyun's awkwardness would stretch --- but that was later.  
  
When they were younger and he was in high-school, all childish feuds aside, Jiyong had envied Seunghyun. More than he envied anybody else and really, the root of all his childhood animosity stemmed from that. He was jealous of everything Seunghyun was, everything he had and was going to be. Jiyong swept floors and cleaned mirrors and danced into the early hours of the morning so he could _be_ somebody, but Seunghyun seemed to radiate, naturally, this sense of importance. He smoked and he was rough around the edges, he moved with a gang _of sorts_ and Jiyong knew that, despite his age, he was performing on stage with friends in underground clubs, rapping, doing what Jiyong lived and breathed.  
  
Seunghyun had the life Jiyong wanted but was afraid he would never have.  
  
When he saw Seunghyun on the street, he'd avoid him _._ He'd make sure Seunghyun knew he hated him, because he _did,_ truly _._ He hated that anyone could have the life he was working so hard to achieve. While Jiyong was signed with a label --- he was picking up people’s lunch and getting nowhere.  
  
Seunghyun had nothing but the world seemed to fall at his feet.  
  
In their neighbourhood, when Seunghyun was on his own and Jiyong was with friends who could bolster him, he'd pluck up the courage and laugh loudly as they passed each-other. It gave him a perverse thrill to see Seunghyun's puzzled face. He'd always furrow his eyebrows and look at the ground, ignoring the sound of Jiyong's laughter.  
  
He embarrassed Seunghyun and he didn't care because he was so envious and insecure and afraid, the idea that someone like Seunghyun could be affected by someone like him …. it felt nice. When his dreams were almost a reality, he ran into Seunghyun again, a year had come and gone since they last saw each-other from afar and he said hello. Seunghyun said _hello_ back, and awkward though it was and uncomfortable as he seemed, he _said_ it. He was trying to be nice and then he seemed oddly human.  
  
He seemed like a person, when before he was something else. An aspiration?  
  
Seunghyun had always been Jiyong's goal, but now, Jiyong had almost achieved his dreams without that model of Seunghyun and he didn't seem so special anymore. He just wanted something better for himself. All those shows in underground clubs and his attitude and the way he carried himself, he wasn't showing off, Seunghyun was just trying to be somebody, the same way Jiyong was. Jiyong felt shy then. A bit ashamed of himself and sorry.  
  
Seunghyun offered him a cigarette when he asked for one and they went their separate ways, sharing only a few short words and well-wishes for the future. It was just a chance encounter outside a shop. He'd just turned 15, he was on the verge of stardom but that little bump into each-other, that proffered cigarette ---  
  
He was curious.  
  
Jiyong thought about Seunghyun for weeks until he tracked him down and sent him an email first and then a txt and when Seunghyun replied, Jiyong wrote back and then again and they just started talking.  
  
A few weeks later Jiyong convinced Seunghyun to send a tape to YG and two weeks after that, Seunghyun told him to forget about it. _He was too fat_ , he said. Jiyong remembered laughing because he thought it was a joke. Yang, who had been a second albeit frightening father to him going on four years, told Seunghyun he was too fat. Jiyong wanted to spur him on and say, ' _bullshit, just send more stuff!'_ but after that, he stopped sending Seunghyun messages. He was embarrassed and he didn't know why.  
  
Because Jiyong stopped writing, Seunghyun did too and there was a weird void left where Seunghyun's idiosyncrasies had started to filter in.  
  
The next time Jiyong saw Seunghyun he was half his size and looked terminally ill.  
  
It was all rather strange and by chance and awkward the way Seunghyun and Jiyong were thrown together, and then _Big Bang --_ \- and then soon enough they were spending every second with each-other because they _had_ to.  
  
Jiyong's envy resurfaced but not because Seunghyun was tough and talented and handsome and dedicated but because he wasn't any of those things, not really. Seunghyun wasn't tough at all, if anything he was the opposite. He was sensitive and calm and childish and bizarrely naïve and there wasn't anything fake about him. He was a weird amalgamation of personalities but it was all Seunghyun. He was who he was, and to Jiyong, who had always sought after something else --- this new person, this _new_ Seunghyun seemed impossible. Unachievable. He seemed more refined, even playing like a child, there was something about him, something new, for Jiyong to envy.  
  
As time dragged on, Jiyong realised, their friendship aside and despite all the ways they were similar, there would always be a barrier between them erected by that envy. There would always be something Seunghyun had that Jiyong wanted but with time the pain of that dissipated and it became easier. For Seunghyun to be his friend, all the parts of him that Jiyong wanted for himself belonged to him by association and that was good enough. 5 years later, after ups and downs, their relationship had changed and changed again but _that_ was constant. Jiyong envied him, always and completely. He envied Seunghyun all the more for his insecurities and the way he hated all the things about himself that Jiyong liked.  
  
Jiyong had feelings for Seunghyun he simply didn't have for the others, never sexual or weird, just different. A fascination. When the opportunity presented itself to investigate, Jiyong took it, innocently enough.  
  
Drunk on Seunghyun's floor one night, edging close to unconsciousness, Jiyong kissed him as a joke, ' _you're so stupid,_ ' he drawled, imitating someone on the television in the background, _'I could kiss you all over your dumb face_ '. He did those things with Seungri, playing childishly, and there wasn't anything behind his actions beyond innocent fun but it was easy to forget through Seunghyun's childish exterior that there was someone underneath.  
  
Jiyong kissed him on the forehead and the cheeks and the nose and Seunghyun grinned that dopey grin, face flushed from alcohol and Jiyong kissed his lips. Seunghyun didn't say a word or make a sign that he'd even noticed what Jiyong had done. When Jiyong did those things with the others, and he _had_ really, _Seunghyun was the only one left;_ They reacted all different ways but never like _that._  
  
And after that, he simply had to know why.  
  
Every time there was the chance and enough alcohol, Jiyong would make sure they were both on the edge of death and he'd do something innocuous at first then raise the stakes. A hand on Seunghyun's thigh and then his stomach and then Jiyong would press against him so tightly that Seunghyun would have to pry him off, but he never did.  
  
Jiyong attributed that to his awkwardness. Seunghyun didn't know how to extricate himself from uncomfortable situations. He'd put up with a hell of a lot before he'd cause any trouble. How far could he take it before Seunghyun said something? Jiyong imagined the look on his face when it finally happened, confusion and embarrassment. He'd laugh at Seunghyun and flick him on the forehead and say, 'I was just messing with you!'  
  
But he never got that far.  
  
One night when they were there again, in that familiar routine, alone in Jiyong's rarely used apartment, drunk and on the precipice of unconsciousness, Jiyong kissed him the way he'd done a hundred times before, only this time Seunghyun reacted.  
  
A peck or two and Jiyong pulled away. He laid his head on Seunghyun's shoulder, content to fall asleep with another experiment concluded, _results inconclusive._  
  
'Why do you do this?' Seunghyun slurred. 'I don't know what you're trying to do'.  
  
It was the first time he'd ever acknowledged Jiyong's tests. He sounded confused and a little hurt and Jiyong opened his eyes, heart beating a little faster.  
  
'I don't know,' he replied dully, and he didn't, because suddenly with the question poised, he really _didn't_ know. He hadn't meant anything by it, he was simply curious, he wanted to know why Seunghyun didn't react like the others to his innocent affections but a part of him liked that. It was fun and strangely exhilarating to be in the dark. It was a bit like the way he chased girls in school, the chase was all the fun, he didn't mind so much if he got the girl or not. It was about the investigation. It was about the game. He just wanted to know, that was all.  
  
'How would you like it?' Seunghyun asked. 'If I did these things to you? Huh?'  
  
He pulled Jiyong's face around so they were eye to eye and he looked annoyed and a bit of that edged into his voice, eyes wide but cloudy.  
  
'I don't know,' Jiyong answered in a whisper.  
  
'Well you should,' Seunghyun said forcibly, fingers dropping from Jiyong's face. 'You _should_ know'.  
  
Jiyong moved his head off Seunghyun's shoulder but didn't get up even after that because he wasn't sure what Seunghyun meant. He'd scolded him but what for? He was too drunk to focus. How would you like it, Seunghyun had asked. Jiyong thought, with a sudden sinking feeling, maybe he _would_ like it.  
  
They sat there beside each other quietly drifting off to sleep. Eyes closed and halfway there, Seunghyun moved his hand so his fingers were just touching Jiyong's thigh. It was then, pretending not to feel, that Jiyong's innocent affections took a detour and became something else.  
  
He never meant for it to happen.  
  
The next time they were alone together and drunk, they stayed on opposite sides of the room. The time after that, they moved a little bit closer but Seunghyun's face was permanently stern. After that, they kissed again and Seunghyun showed his cards. His kiss made Jiyong weak at the knees.  
  
They didn't understand yet, what that was, what they were _doing ---_  


  
  
*  
  


  
An odd expression flutters over Hyeong-bae's face and Jiyong shakes off the weight of useless memories.  
  
'What?' he asks, drawing his feet up to his chest so he can rest his cheek against his knees.  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs, 'It's nothing. You just had a look on your face, that's all'.  
  
'What look?'  
  
'Just kind of sad, I guess'.  
  
'I am sad’.  
  
'Thinking about the good times?'  
  
Jiyong feels the niggling sensation of fatigue creep up on him again and it stops him from saying, 'They were _all_ good times,' because obviously, they weren't. Not at the end.  
  
'How we got together,' he says instead. 'Me and … _her_ '.  
  
_Her_.  
  
It's funny to say that, to try and school his brain into replacing Seunghyun's face with another.  
  
Hyeong-bae grins, 'What was it? Love at first sight? A crazy one night stand in a club? Your eyes met across a crowded room?'  
  
_A one-night stand?_  
  
Jiyong sees Seunghyun in his mind, years ago, on the edge of his bed, taking off his shirt with this look on his face like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He remembers that like it was yesterday. He took his own shirt off, following Seunghyun's lead and then started blubbering like an idiot, 'I can't do this, I'm not ready for this!' The first time they tried to sleep together, it was a disaster. A one-night stand?  
  
Jiyong snorts at Hyeong-bae's question, 'No, it wasn't like that'.  
  
Seunghyun had looked so relieved back then and confessed as much himself, looking down at his shaking hands, ' _I was so nervous'._  
  
'It was slow,' Jiyong says. 'Slow and nice'.

 

  
  
*

 

 

Hyeong-bae asks when he was jilted and after hearing three months have gone by, asks where his friends are.  
  
'Aren't they supposed to take you out and find you a new girl?'  
  
'I never told anybody,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'No-one knew we were together. How could I tell people we broke up when they didn't know the rest? I couldn't tell anybody'.  
  
He stretches his legs out in front of him and says wistfully, 'she was my secret'.  
  
'You never told anybody?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
'Not a soul'.  
  
'Why are you telling me?'  
  
_'I don't know'._

 


	8. Chapter 8

   
  
  


**FLASHBACK**   
  
  


 

'You _what_?'  
  
Seunghyun looks like he's witnessed a terrible accident. Jiyong understands the reaction. This whole conversation is beginning to sound and feel like a trainwreck. He can't think what possessed him to start this at all.  
  
'I want to _sleep_ with you,' he says again. 'Can’t we sleep together?'  
  
Seunghyun shuffles closer and Jiyong feels a pain in his gut.  
  
'What do you mean you want to _sleep_ with me?'  
  
Jiyong eyes the front door, the thought of escape more appealing by the second. The look on Seunghyun's face is an absolute nightmare. Sleeping together seemed like a neutral step, something safe, a natural progression but obviously it was something more than he imagined or Seunghyun wouldn't have this expression on his face.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he says tactfully. 'I didn't think it was a big deal. I just thought---'  
  
Seunghyun's hands frame his face in one fluid movement. It startles him. For a moment his warm palms are a distraction from this mess of a conversation. Gentle thumbs smooth over the apple of his cheeks. It makes him nervous. His mother did the same thing when his music teacher died in the third grade. Gentle thumbs across the cheeks have become synonymous with bad news in the short time he has had to formulate a theory about it.  
  
Seunghyun asks again, more serious than he has sounded in months, 'what do you mean you want to sleep with me?'  
  
Jiyong flounders, too surprised by the interrogation. It takes three goes to string a sentence together that's coherent. There is literally no other way of saying it. He doesn’t understand where the confusion is coming from or what Seunghyun wants him to say.  
  
'I don't know what you want me to say? I just thought we could sleep together'.  
  
He's sorry he even brought it up. His answers don't seem to fix anything. Seunghyun looks more shell-shocked with each passing second. He never thought such an innocuous request could end so badly. Sleep is sleep. It's not a big deal. Sleeping together is just---- _Oh,_ Jiyong thinks. He smiles at the misunderstanding. Sleeping together sounds a whole lot like fucking.  
  
He places his hands over Seunghyun's and he tries to lace their fingers together.  
  
'I don't mean _se_ x,' he says seriously. 'I mean sleep with you. Next to you. Asleep. No funny business'.  
  
Jiyong is quietly impressed by Seunghyun's poise. If their roles were reversed and Seunghyun showed up on his doorstep at midnight with an overnight bag and a worried face saying, ' _I want us to sleep together,_ ' he would have made the same assumptions. He would have thought sex was suddenly on the table and had a nervous breakdown. He might have shut the door in Seunghyun's face. He wouldn't stand there and try to talk about it the way Seunghyun just did.  
  
Seunghyun relaxes in an instant. Crisis averted. Communication restored. Jiyong kisses him briefly before Seunghyun shoves him away. He points an accusatory finger and Jiyong raises his hands in self-defence.  
  
'You really scared the shit out of me’.  
  
Jiyong wants to say sorry or kiss him and make it all better but he doesn't. Seunghyun looks so pale, he just laughs at him. It’s funny, in hindsight.  
  
'The _look_ on your face. You probably did shit yourself'.  
  
Seunghyun dashes forward, trying to grab him but Jiyong darts out of the way and makes it over the back of the lounge. What follows is a very adult chase around the apartment, with mild taunts and threats of physical violence. Seunghyun gives up first, no surprises there.  
  
From behind a couch, Jiyong talks across the room.  
  
'So? Are you going to let me? Sleep with you?'  
  
On the other side of the room, with his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed like he's thinking long and hard about it, Seunghyun considers the proposal. Jiyong knows what he's going to say. He can tell by the look on his face, but his heart beats out of rhythm and anxiety grips him despite that, because, _'what if he says no?'_  
  
He doesn't, of course.  
  
‘Yeah’.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Relief hits Jiyong like a wave. It's embarrassing how wide he smiles. He couldn't stop himself if he tried. Seunghyun said yes. He's going to sleep with him, they're going to sleep _together_ and it's such a non-event, such a small and nonsense thing --- he's slept with an endless list of people, but this is different. Sleeping with Seunghyun isn't _sleeping_ , it's more than that. It's a declaration, a _choice._  
  
It _matters._  
  
'Yeah?' Jiyong smiles, walking over. 'You sure?'  
  
Seunghyun grabs him when he's within arms reach and pulls him in tight, sliding long arms around his waist. 'Yeah,' he answers. 'Let's sleep together'.  
  
Jiyong tries to curb his enthusiasm. The thought of sleeping with Seunghyun excites him, not in a sexual way, but a different way. One he hasn't quite figured out yet. They've slept together before but not on purpose. There's never been a conscious decision to spend the night, to lay next to each-other and go to sleep. They fall asleep on the same couch when they are tired, and in vans and after parties, but not in bed and not because they want to.  
  
They've fooled around a little. They’ve taken leaps and bounds in fact over the last few weeks, going from kissing and heart-to-hearts to something a little extra, something more daring and intimate. By Jiyong's count, there have been 5 hand-jobs and 3 blow-jobs between them in the last three months and while intimate, at the same time they haven't been. They're never naked, they don't take their time and they never talk about it; That's been an unspoken rule between them.  
  
Hand-jobs are beneath blankets or in the dark. The pants stay on, they're unbuttoned and unzipped and no more. Blow jobs have gone the same; a hurried experiment with pants shoved down a few inches. A fumble in the dark not spoken about afterwards or planned beforehand. It makes them nervous, or it makes Jiyong nervous but he knows Seunghyun pretty well to think he feels the same way. Seunghyun's given two of the three blow-jobs and three of the five hand-jobs which makes Jiyong distinctly uncomfortable and he doesn't know why.  
  
It goes against the grain almost, against their respective personalities that Seunghyun has taken the lead but Jiyong is afraid. He's scared of initiating that kind of intimacy. He can't get past it. Which isn't to say he doesn't enjoy it when it happens, it feels good --- _great_ even. Seunghyun has _ways_ about him and Jiyong is susceptible; _was_ susceptible _,_ right from the start.  
  
The way Seunghyun kissed him made him weak at the knees. Jiyong had played the field, fallen in and out of love more than once and the kisses he'd shared were plentiful but until Seunghyun, there had never been a kiss like the ones he gave. Jiyong liked rough and ready and passionate kisses. He got off on the frenzy. He liked being swept up in his emotions, getting lost in the thrill and the drive but Seunghyun wasn't like that. He stripped all that away and when it was gone, Jiyong found he didn't miss it.  
  
Seunghyun was gentle. His kisses were soft and slow and deep and they _lasted_. They drove him crazy. It took everything he had not to take over, to shove Seunghyun onto his back and _show_ him how crazy they made him. Those long sensual kisses wound him up so tightly he could barely breathe and Seunghyun knew it. He'd take him to the edge and then bring him back. He would alleviate his suffering with painstaking care.  
  
Seunghyun's kisses weren't just kisses, they were almost out of body experiences or maybe suffocating in-body experiences, Jiyong couldn't decide. He used his hands. He dragged gentle fingertips over sensitive skin and seemed to find a way into every dip and hollow of his body.  
  
Jiyong didn't expect that.  
  
Seunghyun didn't talk about himself that much before they got together. He never spoke about girlfriends or boyfriends and a part of Jiyong wondered if he had even _had_ sex before or ever gone on real adult dates. He was so awkward when it came to relationship talk, Jiyong didn't think it was a stretch to think maybe he just wasn't interested. Seunghyun was a lone wolf. But then --- this thing with the two of them started and Seunghyun put himself out there in a way that made Jiyong feel helpless. He was --- _brave_ wasn't the right word, but maybe. Jiyong found him brave sometimes.  
  
Technically, he kissed Seunghyun first. He prodded and poked and provoked him into responding to his gentle affections; the game he played to understand him, but he had no desires beyond that. They weren't real kisses, they were questions. It was a test. There was no bravery on his part. The day Seunghyun kissed him back, he took control. Small as it was, the peck that it was, fleeting though it was. Seunghyun had kissed him and not as a game, not to figure him out, but because he wanted to. That was _brave._  
  
After that, things took the same course. Different situations, same outcome. Jiyong would poke and prod and provoke and Seunghyun would take action. He would take control. He did it when they kissed.  Jiyong figured Seunghyun was a little controlling deep down. He had simply never had avenues to exercise it before.  
  
Their first fumble into sexual intimacy was all those problems rolled into one.  
  
It started with one of Seunghyun's kisses.  
  
They'd never spoken about _it_ before. _It_ wasn't on the agenda. Jiyong hadn't thought about _it_ , not even in his dreams. _It_ being sex or anything preluding to sex --- But with Seunghyun and his kisses, sometimes they went too far and things got out of hand.  
  
They had had a long day, Jiyong was tired but he wanted to spend time with Seunghyun so he went home with him. He put on a movie, they sat beside each-other on the couch. He drifted off, he couldn't help it. The lights were off, the room was dark, the volume on the tv down low --- they were the perfect conditions, sleep was _calling_ to him, Seunghyun or not. So, he drifted in and out and woke up some time later with his head on Seunghyun's shoulder. It was nice. He was comfortable. He thought Seunghyun was sleeping too. He wasn't.  
  
Seunghyun kissed him on the forehead and turned off the tv. He was going to drag Jiyong to bed but he didn't want to go, so he kissed Seunghyun before he could go anywhere. He lay back on the couch and dragged Seunghyun down after him until they were half on the lounge and half on the floor.  
  
He prodded and poked until Seunghyun did that thing he always did; gave a long torturous kiss with gentle touches and nudges and it was so nice there in the dark, so relaxed and quiet and calm that Jiyong, in his tired state, lost control of himself. Seunghyun's touches excited him. They turned him on, they drove him crazy and he was so tired, he couldn't remember all the reasons _not_ to anymore.  
  
He got hard. When he realised, he didn't stop or shove Seunghyun away, he was too tired, so overtired he was almost drunk. His inhibitions flew out the window. _Seunghyun_ noticed and he pulled away. He whispered Jiyong's name quietly in the dark in question and Jiyong made nothing but a noise in response. He was desperate, over-sensitive, out of his mind. He leaned up to kiss Seunghyun again and, unthinking, slid a hand between them. He pressed his palm over his dick himself to relieve the pressure.  
  
Seunghyun pulled away again and Jiyong grabbed his arm, afraid he'd leave and whispered, 'please' into the dark. _Shit, please don't go_ , he thought.  
  
Seunghyun took that a different way. He didn't leave. He kissed Jiyong again, a little less gentle, taking him by surprise. He brushed Jiyong's hand away and replaced it with his own. Jiyong didn't stop him when he undid the button on his pants or when he yanked them down a few inches. He didn't stop him when Seunghyun’s shaking fingers took him in hand. He didn't stop him or speak up when Seunghyun's troubled voice asked quietly in the dark, 'Is this okay?'  
  
Jiyong didn't do anything, he didn't know how. His mind was a thousand miles away, all that remained was his body and Seunghyun and the way he touched him nervously. It had been so long since someone else had _touched_ him and so unexpected that Jiyong consciously did nothing. His body responded though, his back arched and he made quiet noises in the dark, little moans and groans. He pulled Seunghyun down by the neck and buried his face in his cheek. He wanted to smell him. He made quiet sounds in Seunghyun’s ear that seemed to spur him on.  
  
He grabbed Seunghyun's arm when he was close and tried to bring their bodies together, he whispered his name and, _'please'_ \--- and then it was over.  
  
The second it was over, he came back to his senses. His mind collided with his body and he was embarrassed but mostly afraid of what he'd made Seunghyun do --- what this _meant_ for them. He hadn't meant to do it. He never would have done it if he wasn't so tired, if he could think straight, but Seunghyun and his kisses had consequences.  
  
All their future 'intimacies' went something like that. They were accidents in the heat of the moment when things went a little too far. They weren't decisions or choices, they were _incidents_.  
  
After that first time, Jiyong had groped around in the dark for Seunghyun's face and held it between his palms and whispered quickly, 'I'm sorry if you didn't want to do that, I'm sorry If I made you --- I don't know what I was --- ‘  
  
Seunghyun had leaned forward, found Jiyong's lips and kissed him briefly, just a peck before asking, 'I'm tired. Are you going to sleep here?'  
  
He avoided the question so entirely, the whole situation so expertly that Jiyong was shattered and humiliated and he gave the only answer he could, 'No, I'm going home'. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, called a cab and off he went.  
  
A few days later Seunghyun showed up at the dorm when no-one else was around, 'Are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?' and Jiyong _laughed._ There was obviously _something_ between them but that element of sex made things complicated. There were misunderstandings.  
  
Their sexual expeditions were _never_ what they should have been so Jiyong after months of undefined encounters hatched a plan after a few too many drinks and one too many movies and thought, ' _Fuck it! I should do something! I’ll take charge!'_  
  
He had to make the next step, not Seunghyun. He'd initiate. He'd take responsibility for once. He'd make something happen. He didn't know what he _wanted_ to happen only _something_. Something was better than nothing and hiccups aside, Seunghyun made Jiyong giddy. Somewhere along the way, stealing kisses at the office and talking late into the night had made him happy, had brought something new into his life. Something unexpectedly fun.  
  
With this new side of him opened up, the _relationship_ side, Seunghyun became someone different; Seunghyun 2.0. 2.0 was different to _old_ Seunghyun. Jiyong understood him. They spent time together, _real_ time, not just hanging out, having fun and making out --- _real time_. They _talked_ to each-other about everything. Seunghyun's whole life suddenly made sense in a way it hadn't before. His idiosyncrasies had purpose and explanation and with that, Seunghyun changed.  
  
It was easier, with additional information, to look over their years of friendship. To allow them to become something more. Past and present were divided, old Seunghyun and 2.0 were different people. It was how Jiyong coped with the change in their relationship and it worked out.  
  
Still, that had its limitations. In their rare moments of sexual intimacy, old Seunghyun and new Seunghyun would blur and Jiyong felt that gnawing fear. Being rejected was bad enough, but to be rejected by someone who'd known you for half your life --- that was worse. It made Jiyong cautious and Seunghyun too and so months after the first kiss, they'd hardly progressed.  
  
Things were going slowly. They had to.  
  
Jiyong liked it for the most part, it excited him. Little things were suddenly enticing and energising and there was romance and suspense and tension in all the ways a relationship should have it. All the ways he had lost it in past relationships by moving too fast.

  
  
*  


So --- sleeping together.  
  
Thirty minutes later, with their legs intertwined on the coffee table and a late-night movie playing on the television, the lights are dimmed and Jiyong is falling asleep. Seunghyun's obviously doing the same because he turns off the television and nudges his legs right off the table.  
  
_'Hey!'_  
  
'Bed time,' Seunghyun answers tiredly, yawning into his fist as he stands. 'Let's go'.  
  
He lets Seunghyun yank him up by his limp arms. They make it half way down the hall in a tired stupor before he remembers something important. He stops abruptly and Seunghyun bumps into him, surprised.  
  
'What are you doing?'  
  
'I want to ask you something else,' he answers tentatively. ‘But I’m not sure I should push my luck’.  
  
'If you’re not sure, don't,' Seunghyun suggests.  
  
Jiyong can't help but frown. Embarrassed. Uncertain. Seunghyun reads his face and changes tact. He asks plaintively, 'What is it?'  
  
'I want to sleep naked with you'.  
  
Seunghyun looks ill suddenly. He physically moves to the wall so he can lean against something to support his weight.  
  
'You what?'  
  
'I don't mean anything funny, you know? I'll stay on my side of the bed and you stay on yours and we'll just sleep. Nothing weird, just naked’.  
  
Seunghyun looks as if he's going to have an aneurysm. It's a lot to ask of him, Jiyong knows, especially like this, without any warning. The thing is --- he thinks it's a good idea. They need to do it, if not tonight then some other night. Sure, he sucked Seunghyun’s dick that one time and he's _touched_ him but he's never seen him naked. Seunghyun hasn't seen him naked either and he must spend half his life in the nude. It's calculated avoidance that Seunghyun hasn't seen his body even by accident.  
  
So this thing, this offer on the table of being naked together is a natural step in the relationship; to cement their trust, which is a simplistic idea in the complicated world of togetherness but one he believes in either way. He can't help but think this thing with Seunghyun is missing a few things. Things like trust and intimacy and tangible displays of affection beyond sucking a dick and kissing.  
  
He likes the blow jobs when he gets past the anxiety but he doesn't _need_ them. He does need everything else though, he wants the kisses and the hugs and for them to sleep together. He wants Seunghyun to trust him enough to be naked in front of him and he wants the same back.  
  
Easier said than done.  
  
Jiyong can feel he's losing the battle already but he tries anyway to persuade Seunghyun into thinking it's a good idea. He tries to explain how he really feels, what his motives are, his hopes for their relationship and their future and how necessary this naked thing really is --- but he can't. He's afraid, so he says other things instead, things that don't really matter.  
  
'We can turn the lights off. We don't have to see each-other, I just wanted---'  
  
He slumps a little and drags a hand through his hair.  
  
'Sorry,' he says quickly. 'I didn't mean to make things awkward or make you uncomfortable, I just got this idea in my head. It's okay that we don't do that’.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't exactly answer at first which makes Jiyong panic. He's half out of his mind wondering what to say next when Seunghyun finally opens his mouth.  
  
'Why?'  
  
_'Huh?'_  
  
'Why,' Seunghyun asks, 'do you want us to be naked?'  
  
'I think it's important’.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Seunghyun looks as tired as he feels, bleary eyes and slumped shoulders.  
  
'Because we're together aren't we? And I've never seen you naked. I like you a lot but I think it's weird that we haven't seen each-other naked,' Jiyong says. 'I know that's a lot to ask. I just think we'd be better off if we could survive being naked together. If it was something small like sleeping together, in the same bed with the lights off, then it wouldn't be so bad'.  
  
Now that he's trying to explain, he can't think of a coherent reason to give Seunghyun for wanting it. Something about trust, he thinks, but is that enough? There has to be more than that. He can't remember.  
  
'Fine,' Seunghyun answers dully.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I said fine, let's be naked’. Seunghyun pushes off from the wall.  
  
'Are you serious? Tonight? _'_  
  
'Yes, if you _hurry up_. I'm tired, I want to go to sleep'.  
  
Jiyong grins and wraps an arm around Seunghyun's waist, who adds an addendum that Jiyong's happy to abide because being naked together is just as good as seeing each other naked.  
  
'Lights off, okay? I'll be naked with you but _lights off_ '.  
  
It’s a compromise but it's fine. It's a hell of a lot more than was happening six hours ago, shovelling dog food into Gaho's bowl.  
  
When they get to the bedroom, when the lights go off and Seunghyun is standing on one side of the bed and Jiyong on the other, there's a silence. A long pregnant silence and an unmistakeable absence of clothes being thrown off the body. Jiyong doesn't say anything because Seunghyun has acquiesced and maybe he needs time. Frankly, he's grateful for an extra few minutes to come to terms with being naked in the same bed with him because theory is a little more glamorous than practise. Seunghyun breaks the silence with an admission.  
  
‘I could use a pep talk’.  
  
Jiyong smiles in the dark. Now that the lights are off and by association the pressure, he can remember all the reasons he wanted this.  
  
'Every time we get _intimate_ ,' and doesn't he feel like an adult saying that word, 'it just happens. It's a spur of the moment thing and we never talk about it afterwards. We never make a conscious decision to _do_ something! And this … sleeping naked together, even without touching … that's a choice! A choice we've both made to be closer without it being such an undefined weird thing between us. Do you understand?'  
  
There's a silence but Seunghyun replies quietly, 'Yeah,' and then Jiyong hears the sound. _At last._ A year in the making. _Fabric rustling_. Seunghyun's getting naked, but the sounds are delayed and there's feet on the carpet and movement and Jiyong eventually _laughs._ He can't stop himself.  
  
'Are you folding your clothes?' he asks, snorting the last word by accident.  
  
Seunghyun's not just getting naked, he's folding his clothes like a gentleman.  
  
'You know how to ruin a moment,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
Before Jiyong knows what's happening, a pair of balled up pants hit him square in the face. The legs unravel over his shoulders like an octopus.  
  
'How did you know where I was?'  
  
'Your pig snort was like a lighthouse in the dark,' he says. 'Get your clothes off and get in the bed’  
  
Fine,' Jiyong sighs, but after a pause asks in a teasing whisper, ' _do you want me to fold your pants up?'_  
  
A pillow hits him in the crotch and Jiyong makes an unmanly sound.  
  
_'How_ are you seeing me in the dark?'  
  
The rest of his quest for their relationship to take a more serious and adult turn doesn't go much better. He's not sure if it's a defence mechanism, to chip away at the scary bigness of it all, or if being stupid is just who they are together. When they're both finally in the bed, Seunghyun speaks into the dark.  
  
'You better not be wearing anything under this blanket'.  
  
'Speak for yourself!' Jiyong defends. 'You've probably got briefs _and_ socks on'.  
  
'I do _not'._  
  
Seunghyun kicks a leg out and finds Jiyong's clothed feet _._  
  
The bed shifts and dips and Jiyong holds his arms out in front of him in self-defence, 'Just socks I swear! My feet are cold!'  
  
There's a brief back and forth in which Seunghyun repeatedly calls him a liar, grabs his wrists like a cop hauling in a prisoner and brings into question his nakedness altogether with a concise, 'You're probably wearing boxers too'.  
  
'You're gonna find out if you don't go back on your own side!'  
  
'What?'  
  
'There's a lot of sexual tension right now okay, leering at me in the dark with your body right there, so get back on your own side before something happens’.  
  
There's a pause like Seunghyun's considering something but then he laughs quietly and says 'Okay'. After that, he gets comfortable back on his own side of the bed.  
  
There's an awkwardness after that, like the default setting of idiocy and sickening cuteness briefly cracked under the weight of the serious reality. They're naked together for the first time, as a _choice_. That means something, all jokes and compromises aside, and Jiyong knows it.

 

 

*

 

  
  
He fell asleep relatively fast once their juvenile banter came to an end and when Jiyong wakes up in the morning with his legs sprawled out, and his face smooshed against the mattress, he figures that's a good sign. His back is bare, and the sheet around his hips somewhere. It makes him feel debauched, like he's just done something filthy or woken up after a rough night. He holds the sheet and rolls over to face Seunghyun, who's yawning into his hands. He looks across at him blearily and Jiyong smiles because he looks cute. Angry and a little murdery but genuinely cute.  
  
'You look grumpy when you wake up,' Jiyong says, voice croaky from sleep.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer, he just pulls the pillow out from beneath him and covers Jiyong's face with it, quietly shooshing him. Jiyong scoffs but doesn't say anything. He just sits under the pillow and thinks.

They've done it. They've slept together, in the most innocent sense of the word. The hurdle has been crossed or jumped or sprinted over and Jiyong feels good about it, not at all weird actually. In a way, _that's_ weird.  
  
This is a big thing they've done and it has serious implications about their togetherness. Sure, they've both freely admitted to being in a relationship but what's that? Jiyong has a relationship with the receptionist in his apartment building. He has a relationship with the guy who washes his dog every two weeks. He has a relationship with soju and pizza --- separate, not together. A relationship isn't necessarily anything worthwhile. It's just a confirmed but unconfirmed 'thing' with another human being or animal or object. It can be anything.  
  
What Jiyong has with Seunghyun is a particular _kind_ of thing. He _likes_ him, for reasons he can only sometimes comprehend and while he still admires women, he doesn't want to fuck them anymore, which is a _definite_ 'thing'.  
  
They've never said they're dating, but Jiyong thinks they are. They've never said the _confirmed but unconfirmed_ 'thing' with each other is exclusive, but he thinks it is. Last night they did a 'dating' sort of thing, this sleeping together thing _,_ and that's a sign-post on the road of a long and winding relationship. There's a chain of events in Jiyong's mind that goes a certain something like;  
  
Getting to know each other  >> the first kiss >> the second kiss >> non-stop kisses >> a relationship talk >> second base >> hands on dicks >> dicks in mouths >> avoiding a relationship talk >> a gesture of commitment >> sex.  
  
Jiyong figures he and Seunghyun have passed through every one of those except the last and while sex isn't on his 'to do list' and won't be for a while, he thinks logically, the list has to go on. If he and Seunghyun keep up with this _vague not verbally defined_ relationship --- one day they're going to _have_ sex. Actual bonafide sex. He hopes at some point before that happens, there's a more unambiguous term for what they _are._  
  
Seunghyun startles him when he moves the pillow from his face. Jiyong squints, readjusting to the light and Seunghyun kisses his forehead. He's getting up.  
  
Jiyong wonders briefly how this is going to work, how they'll both get out from the same sheet and keep their _bits_ hidden. Getting naked in the dark was probably a futile effort now that the suns up. He figures Seunghyun is thinking the same thing because he looks around the room trying to find a solution to his problem.  
  
'Hey, grab my pants,' he says, pointing to Jiyong's side of the room and he sulks a little, because wow, that was easy. Part of him buzzed at the thought of finally seeing Seunghyun naked. Let the winning streak continue, and all that.  
  
He shuffles under the sheet and pokes a hand out the side, feeling around for the pants before flinging them back in Seunghyun's direction. He rolls onto his side and watches him; Seunghyun's back as he sits up, his shoulder-blades as he bends forward. Seunghyun pulls his pants on one leg at a time and halfway up his thighs before standing up, taking them up the rest of the way.  
  
Jiyong smiles.  
  
‘Nice ass'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't face him, but he smiles. He picks a shirt up off the chair at the end of the bed but doesn't put it on.  
  
'Very nice,' Jiyong says, and in a more playful tone. 'Pert'.  
  
Seunghyun snorts.  
  
'Oh yeah?'  
  
As he walks out of the bedroom he grabs the corner of the blanket and the sheets with it and pulls. He doesn't let go and Jiyong realises all too late what he's doing. The blanket recedes further and further off the bed with each step Seunghyun takes until he's almost at the door and Jiyong is almost uncovered.  
  
He tries to pull the blankets back, to cover himself up, but Seunghyun is stronger. He rounds the corner and disappears out the door just as the blanket finally hits the floor and Jiyong is left naked on the bed. He quickly covers his dick with both hands and sends a loud _'Hey!'_ out into the now empty room.  
  
After a sulk, he searches for his clothes. He wasn't that methodical when they went to bed --- he sort of let his clothes drop where they fell. Looking around --- he thinks they probably got caught up in the blankets dragging across the floor. His clothes are probably tangled up in a mess of sheet around the corner now. The winning streak is over, he thinks. He doesn't really want to walk naked up the hallway, trying to sift through blankets with one hand.  
  
Maybe it's a good thing they didn't see each other naked. He's not that excited about it now.  
  
He gives up eventually and turns back towards the door and, _'jesus fucking christ_ ', he cries. His hand covers his chest and it's all too late when he realises --- his hands should have covered other places. Seunghyun is standing there in the doorway with a smile on his face; a small one. A nice one. He has his arms folded, hip against the wall for support.  
  
Seunghyun is staring. At his _body_. Jiyong is naked and Seunghyun is right there and he's staring.  
  
They decided last night that they weren't going to do this, but Seunghyun is standing there now, breaking the rules. Breaking the terms of their unspoken agreement by staring at his naked body _._ Not just his dick, because he's already seen that, but everything else. All the little extraneous parts that mean nothing, --- a bit of leg, some thigh, an armpit --- bits that mean nothing individually but when put together as one, make a great big insecure human being.  
  
He can see on Seunghyun’s face that this was a spur of the moment decision. He blushes in response. He doesn't know where to go or what to do or where to cover himself, so he doesn't do anything. If Seunghyun can be bold, he thinks, so can I. He holds his arms out beside him like Jesus on the cross, feeling suitably self-sacrificing, and tries to swallow down the insecurity threatening to ruin whatever brave thing Seunghyun is doing.  
  
Seunghyun eyes him up and down with careful scrutiny, cataloguing, or so it seems. He gets a good long look, all the while Jiyong can _feel_ his eyes on him. Embarrassed, he lets his arms fall to his sides. It takes everything he's got not to cover himself up. It's too late for that, he thinks rationally, you'll look like an asshole if you do it now.  
  
Seunghyun has a look on his face that Jiyong has rarely seen on him too, like he's in on a joke no-one else is a part of. He looks happy.  
  
Jiyong knows right away he isn't laughing at him. He doesn't know how, but he does. He can read Seunghyun in a way he can't read anyone else --- Seunghyun's just happy, and most evidently --- _proud_ of himself. Jiyong can see it written all over his face and it's so rare and so stupid that Jiyong smiles back. Seunghyun did something spur of the moment. He took a risk when he was scared, and in his mind, it's payed off. Jiyong forgives him in an instant and Seunghyun's lack of adverse reaction makes his own nakedness less terrifying.  
  
'It's your turn next time,' Jiyong says quietly, pointing at him authoritatively. Seunghyun nods his affirmation and turns to leave. He doesn't though, something stops him and he faces Jiyong again, a little anxious this time.  
  
'I'm taking a shower,' he says.  
  
'Okay?' Jiyong answers.  
  
'It's a big shower _'._  
  
_Oh,_ Jiyong thinks, and maybe he says it quietly for good measure too.  
  
'Oh'.  
  
  


  
  
*

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun's suitably embarrassed when he takes his pants off in the bathroom but he bucks up and doesn't say anything self-deprecating or apologist, like 'sorry for my knees,' or 'try not to focus on my humongous thighs,' which is something Seunghyun would say while being completely untrue. In fact, he is a little in awe of Seunghyun's body. Any remnants of who Seunghyun was when they first met are gone, forgotten and paved over with a new body that's lean and sculpted but not too much. Seunghyun has the perfect balance of muscle and fat that says, 'I'm in good shape but I don't have to try. I'm naturally beautiful'. That kind of arrogant model swagger attitude people have when they're attractive. Everything is proportionate to everything else, his shoulders are broad but not too broad, his legs are long but not gawkily so. Even his dick is nice. He fits together in all the right ways and makes Jiyong feel self-conscious about his own body and the way he's a little too short and boxy and angular.  
  
'Stop worrying about yourself,' Seunghyun says loftily. 'You should be thinking about _this'._  
  
He gestures up and down his body and Jiyong laughs.  
  
'I _was_ thinking about _all this,_ ' he retorts, gesturing the same way towards Seunghyun's slimline ken-doll deal.  
  
'No you weren't. You were thinking something stupid'.  
  
Jiyong's bottom lip drops a little. Is he so transparent?  
  
'Your body is nice,’ Seunghyun says knowingly. ‘I had a good look, trust me'.  
  
Jiyong blushes and shoves Seunghyun bodily into the shower.  
  
'When did you get so _forward?_ '  
  
Seunghyun pulls a face now, when Jiyong's in the shower beside him.  
  
'I don't know,' he answers. 'I guess that time I gave you a hand-job on the couch for the first time? Everything's been pretty easy from that point'.  
  
Jiyong's not sure whether to laugh or be shocked by Seunghyun’s sense of humour.  
  
'You were pretty shy last night!'  
  
'I wasn't shy, I was _tired_. I thought you came over for sex which I’m not ready for, so …'

He can just say that, Jiyong thinks. Without agonising about it for days, he can just say out loud in the spur of the moment, like it's no big deal, I’m not ready.

‘I’m gonna need you to stop talking,' Jiyong says quickly, turning on the taps.  
  
'What? Why?'  
  
He covers his face for a moment and then uncovers it with a faint grimace.  
  
'I'm having _feelings_ ,' he says.  
  
Which is true. He doesn't even know how else to describe them. Seunghyun is being so open and honest and _sexy_ and Jiyong's just had a dose of _feelings_ tantamount to brimming with overwhelming fucking love and attraction but mostly love, and he doesn't need that.  
  
'I need you to shut up for a while so I can deal with them'.  
  
Seunghyun snorts and says, 'whatever,' but follows up with a perfunctory, 'Good feelings?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer.

  
  
*

 

 

They shower, and that means _literally_ shower, albeit a little more sexy and even more outside the realm of what Jiyong thought was possible 24 hours ago.  
  
Seunghyun span him around so he was facing the wall and washed him, or maybe there's a sexier term for that, jiyong thinks. Bathed? Cleansed? He dragged a soapy washer down his back, over his shoulder-blades and down his sides. He did both sides, but not below the belt and then pushed the washer into Jiyong's chest and turned around.  
  
My turn, he thought. He felt a little surge of power. He did his best to tow the new unspoken line about what a suitable way to wash another human being was --- but _then._ He did Seunghyun's back, his really nice toned back, and his arms. He went down his sides and the top of his ass and thought, 'why do half a job?'  
  
He took the washer lower and Seunghyun tensed _but didn't say anything_ so he just _did_ it. He dragged the washer down, below the curve of his ass, across his upper thighs and then a little higher. It was nice, a little forbidden but not entirely. He got a good feel of Seunghyun's ass through the washer, in nice circular motions, both cheeks _to be thorough,_ and nobody stopped him. _Nobody_ being Seunghyun, who was still tense but obviously intent on letting him have his fun, and fun it was. Yesterday, the sexiest thing they'd shared together was a blow job in a kitchen, in the dark, with a dog watching.  
  
Now, Seunghyun is standing there, silently accepting his playful exploration of an ass he never really thought he'd get to see, let alone touch. It should embarrass him, and a part of him wonders why it doesn't; why the last 16 hours have gone so well or why no-one's had a meltdown. Sure, he's worried and nervous and feels a bit sick and there are insecurities tearing at the walls of his skull, but things are okay.  
  
They've always been okay.  
  
He and Seunghyun, they're easy. They fight a lot, but Jiyong's pretty sure they fight about how much they like each other so he doesn't think that counts. He worries how easy it is between them and what that means. Maybe there's a storm brewing in the distance and maybe there isn't. Both possibilities make him nervous.  
  
The former because he likes Seunghyun, he likes how simple things can be. He's never had that before in a relationship. He doesn't know if it's because Seunghyun's a man or because they've known each-other a long time. The latter worries him again, because _he likes Seunghyun._ He likes him and if their relationship is so easy now, what if it always is? What if things just go on the way they are and they fall in love with each other? What if this big ball of like evolves into _love_? Bad enough to love a man, but a famous one? When _you're_ famous? He feels bad for future-Jiyong if that's what in store for him because that's no kind of life.  
  
'Are you done groping me?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
Jiyong snaps out of his thoughts and thinks about it, 'I guess so. I mean you're pretty clean now. Down here anyway'. He slaps Seunghyun's ass and steps back precariously when Seunghyun turns around.  
  
Seunghyun snatches the washer from Jiyong's hand and it hits the floor. Jiyong thinks, 'oops'. He's blown it. Maybe there's no such thing as a friendly ass slap. It's a miracle they're even in the shower together at all, and he's overstepped the mark.  
  
He hasn’t though.  
  
Seunghyun ends the 'washing' portion of the shower and it devolves into something else.  
  
Seunghyun guides him backwards until he's ass up against the wall. The tiles are cold and he’s startled by the chill that jolts through him. Before he can do anything, Seunghyun moves. He hunches over a little, fingers beneath Jiyong's chin to tilt his head up and then _oh_ , Jiyong thinks.  
  
A kiss.  
  
And not just a kiss but one of Seunghyun's _signature_ kisses that starts the way they do, with hands on his face, soft lips against his own-- then tongue drags past teeth and Jiyong makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat he has no control over.  
  
Hot steam fills the shower until he can't tell beads of sweat from droplets of water. It heightens every sense that matters and dulls the ones that don't. With Seunghyun's fingers on him, his lips on him --- Jiyong thinks he might be in trouble regarding the whole 'L' word issue. Somewhere down the line, anyway. This sort of thing is going to be trouble one day, this feeling in his gut is going to blur the lines. Then again, thinking he'll be in trouble in the future probably means he's _already_ in trouble, doesn't it? Pre-emptive love maybe, if that's a thing. Pre-cognition.  
  
Seunghyun's fingers stay above the belt. They find sensitive spots behind his neck and in the crook of his arm of all places, but it doesn't matter where they are. Every touch excites him, drives him crazy until he realises belatedly that he’s hard, and not just a little but completely, 100% _achingly_ hard. It makes his _bones_ ache.  
  
He worries what Seunghyun will do when he realises. Everything's gone well so far, if a _not-solo erection_ in a shower is anything to go by, but that's a whole other thing. This is different. This is too 'in your face'. This isn't like all their other times in the dark. He feels childish, like he's just hit puberty and can't control himself, but being touched in a shower is the sort of thing that turns him on.  
  
He's embarrassed. It's okay to get a hard-on with your pants still on, or in the dark, but not in the middle of the day and not stark naked.  
  
Seunghyun moves in eventually and for all Jiyong's efforts to kill his erection, _thinking about maths and how light-bulbs work and why the plant his mother gave him refuses to grow,_ for all that --- his erection is _there._  
  
Seunghyun moves in, presses their bodies together and that's it. He _knows_. Jiyong's hard on is pressed against his leg and he tenses up, shrinks out of the kiss and waits --- for Seunghyun to say something or end this because it’s all getting a little heavy. But he doesn't, and isn't Seunghyun just full of surprises.  
  
'What's wrong?'  
  
Seunghyun’s lips are swollen and his breathing out of rhythm.  
  
'Sorry’.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what else to say. At first, Seunghyun doesn't understand what he’s saying, but he follows Jiyong's inadvertent gaze and _laughs_. It’s not a problem. It’s the opposite. Seunghyun is hard too. Jiyong didn't even notice. He was too wrapped up in his mental ravings to even feel it--- and God does Seunghyun’s dick look nice hard. Flushed and perfect--  
  
Seunghyun laughs again, not a full laugh, but a small one. He laughs into the crook of Jiyong's neck which sends vibrations deep beneath his skin.  
  
'You were right before,' Seunghyun says a moment later. 'What you said about us, that we never do this stuff on purpose'.  
  
'I was?'  
  
'Yeah. Let's do it on purpose'.  
  
Jiyong can see the flicker of insecurity in his eyes, that silent, _'If you want to,'_ trailing after the rest and that makes him feel better. That beneath Seunghyun's facade of confidence is someone nervous too. Jiyong's not sure how to answer him in the affirmative without stuttering a whole lot, so he nods instead.  
  
Seunghyun seems bolstered by how flustered he is and Jiyong wonders if he likes that. If being confident around someone who isn't, turns him on. He doesn't spend too long wondering. Seunghyun doesn't let him. He presses him further into the wall with his own body.  
  
Jiyong feels Seunghyun’s cock against his hip and holds his breath.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his hips. His teeth find Jiyong’s collarbone and _Oh god ---_ hand jobs and blow jobs and kissing aside, this is a brave new world. Seunghyun reaches between their tightly pressed bodies and manages to get both of them in hand, jerking them off _together_ and Jiyong's never felt that before. It's weird and it's frustrating because it's not quite enough but it's _great_. It’s _teasing_. It drives him crazy.  
  
He doesn't know where to put his hands, so they stay at his sides balled into fists until Seunghyun touches him just right and his hands move of their own accord, to hover over Seunghyun’s waist  
  
Seunghyun is so warm against him, and his fingers so slender and long, it's perfect. His hips cant off the wall in tiny movements, he can't stop himself. Jiyong wants to feel more ---- harder and longer and faster. He grabs Seunghyun's bicep and doesn't let go. If he had nails, they'd be breaking the skin, his grip is so tight. He can't think straight. His cock aches. He feels heavy and his legs start to shake.  
  
It only takes a minute or two of half-kisses and Seunghyun's hand jerking them off together and Jiyong's almost at his limit.  
  
'Fuck,' he whispers, head back against the tiles.  
  
He prays Seunghyun is close too, that he doesn't cum too soon and embarrass himself. He doesn't know what a respectable amount of minutes is for this situation. How long do you have to last before cumming isn't 'embarrassing'. He's almost going to ask, or at least warn Seunghyun that he's ending the party prematurely, but then he thinks _'What for?'_ He doesn't have to stay against the wall, defenceless.  
  
Jiyong indulges himself a little more. He gets a little _too_ close, then pushes Seunghyun away. He pushes him into the stream of water and out the other side. Jiyong follows him. He turns the taps off on the way and when Seunghyun is wiping the water from his eyes, Jiyong moves a hand over his chest. He takes a moment to feel his pecs and taut stomach. He kisses Seunghyun’s collarbone and says, 'Get on the floor'.  
  
Seunghyun looks as surprised as Jiyong feels by saying it, but he does what he says, carefully getting himself down until his ass is flat on the tiles. Jiyong pokes and prods him until he's laying down.  
  
'You're lucky I have a big shower,' Seunghyun says nervously and Jiyong agrees. He was sceptical the first time he took a shower in it, but it's grown on him. Double showers have their merits. It's 'contemporary'.  
  
He gets on the floor after him and says nothing. He's not sure what to say either way, if he should tell him what he's going to do or distract him with meaningless talk. In the end, he stays quiet. He tries to focus. He's had enough of Seunghyun's gentle ministrations and teasing foreplay, not just from the shower but their whole relationship so far. Every long and tortuous kiss has led to this moment. He wants to take charge for once. He wants to release all his nervous energy.  
  
He wants Seunghyun to know how it feels.  
  
So he swings a leg over Seunghyun's thighs and sits on top of him, over his thighs and Seunghyun's eyes go wide and his lips part. He whispers, _'shit'_ and Jiyong feels vindicated. This turns him on already and he hasn't even done anything. Now that he's on him though, he's not sure what to do. They've never done this before, never come this close before. Seunghyun's the only guy he's ever been with. It's not like touching a girl, it's different.  
  
In a panic, Jiyong just does what seems obvious. He takes Seunghyun's cock in hand --- grips him and squeezes gently. He's given Seunghyun two hand-jobs before and while that's not exactly a lot of practise, he picked up a few things --- what he liked and what he didn't.  
  
So he does what he remembers Seunghyun liked, light touches --- barely there strokes up his shaft and down, his fingernails dragging lightly over his balls and back up. He likes to be teased, so Jiyong teases him. He changes it up. He does what Seunghyun likes and then tries new things. He rolls the head of his dick in the palm of his hand. Seunghyun jolts at that, he makes a sound in the back of his throat and grabs Jiyong's knees for something to hold on to.  
  
Jiyong watches him, every part of him --- looking for signals and cues and it turns him on, the way Seunghyun’s eyelashes flutter and his stomach tightens. He wonders if it's just Seunghyun or if he automatically likes all men now, but the thought of other people’s dicks doesn’t exactly turn him on, so that’s a question for another day.  
  
Before long, the tension is too much. He gives up on Seunghyun and finds the right position. He leans forward a little and takes them both in his hand at once, jerking them off together, the way Seunghyun did in the shower. It’s a little harder than it looks, but he manages. Seunghyun groans and so does he, rocking a little with every stroke until he can feel the pleasure in every part of his body, can almost feel it in his toes.  
  
Seunghyun has a hand over his eyes and Jiyong wishes he could see them, but he _can_ see his mouth, lax and open. He sees Seunghyun’s neck taut, can hear his tiny groans and breathless whispers, and that's enough.  
  
When he’s close, and it doesn't take much, Seunghyun stops him.  
  
He grabs his legs tight and rolls them over in a way Jiyong's sure will leave a bruise, though he doesn't entirely mind. Seunghyun shoves him onto his back. He spreads his legs forcefully in a way that makes Jiyong groan without even being touched and positions himself between them. Jiyong wonders if all the girls he's done that to felt the way he does now; _on_ _edge_. So close to cumming, he's afraid to move.  
  
_'Fuck’._  
  
Seunghyun leans over him so they're at eye level and he lowers himself down. He rolls his hips so their cocks slide together and Jiyong's hands shoot out around Seunghyun's back until his fingers find his shoulder-blades and _dig in._ The feel of their cocks together is incredible, so wet and hot and that tension---  
  
He clutches at Seunghyun's back with every movement and for all his pathetic sounds, Seunghyun has plenty of his own. They are needy and desperate, and both dangerously close.  Jiyong doesn't want this to be over so quickly, but he's desperate to cum.  
  
'Yesterday, I hadn't even seen you naked,' he whispers. _'Now this?'_  
  
Seunghyun hits the perfect angle and Jiyong's legs try instinctively to close, but connect with Seunghyun's hips instead. He ends up twisting half around, his back writhing against the tiles.  
  
_'Shit’._  
  
Seunghyun brushes the hair from Jiyong's forehead with slender fingers and says, 'Well, we were always going to do this'.  
  
'I _know_ but I didn't think-- I thought you didn't want--  this is-- ‘  
  
He's cut off by Seunghyun trying to hit that perfect angle again. He's off but only just and Jiyong loses the ability to speak momentarily in favour of something else --- a breathy moan.  
  
'You want to have this conversation now?' Seunghyun slows the movement of his hips --- dialling it back to slow languid thrusts.  
  
'Sorry,' Jiyong answers breathless. 'I'm nervous'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'I don't know what we're doing. _What is this?'_  
  
That same relationship question that's periodically come and gone over the last 24 hours. What _are_ we? What are we doing? Why? Where is this going? He knows it's not the right time to ask but he's so nervous and embarrassed and he thinks talking will somehow make this go away; the blush in his cheeks and the twisting in his gut and the shame every time he makes a sound when Seunghyun touches him just right.  
  
Seunghyun alters his position and leans forward, so close that their lips are almost touching. So close that his face is indistinguishable. He is just a blur, reduced to a warm breath tickling Jiyong's skin. Seunghyun's lips are so close to his own, it feels like they're kissing, an invisible link spanning the millimetres between them. The ghost of a kiss; the shadow.  
  
Seunghyun breathes quietly, against his lips.  
  
'I like you'.  
  
It makes Jiyong's toes curl and his heart skip a beat.  
  
He whispers back, resisting the urge to kiss him. _  
  
_  'I like you too. I _really_ like you,' and he's never meant it more.  
  
'Don't be nervous,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong laughs at that and puckers his lips, so close now that it's all it takes for them to kiss.  
  
' _You're_ nervous,' he says quietly.  
  
Seunghyun pulls back, enough for Jiyong to see his face again.  
  
'Who, _me?_ '  
  
Jiyong whispers pointedly, 'Your hands are shaking’.  
  
Jiyong can see them on his periphery. He can feel one of them against his skin. It makes him nervous. It makes him aware of his own body and what his own hands are doing _._  
  
Shaking is bad, that doesn't just mean nervousness and anxiety it can mean other things too, like _'I'm so overcome with emotions that my little hands are shaking,'_ and Jiyong doesn't want that. He doesn't want what they're doing to be serious; or to mean too much.  
  
Seunghyun grabs one of Jiyong's hands suddenly, and lays it out flat on the tiles beside his head, their fingers lacing together.  
  
'No they're not'.  
  
'Oh,' Jiyong smiles. 'You've got moves'.  
  
Seunghyun snorts at that. His head lands in the crook of Jiyong's neck and he laughs.  
  
'Will you stop _talking?'_  
  
'I'm sorry, I told you I was nerv---'  
  
He is cut off, or the pathways in his brain switch off. They redirect elsewhere to more important parts of the body, like his dick, because that's where Seunghyun is --- or his hand is anyway. Seunghyun has a hand on him and Jiyong devolves back into quiet moans.  
  
Seunghyun suddenly pulls back. He moves backwards. Jiyong watches him scoot back and crouch down and _oh god,_ Jiyong thinks. _He isn’t---_  
  
Seunghyun's tongue drags a wet, hot line down his cock. His shoulders physically rise off the floor when Seunghyun takes him in his warm mouth. After that, he's got no chance. He couldn't speak if he wanted to and it barely takes a minute before he’s slapping at Seunghyun's hand, 'Stop! _I'm going to cum!_ '  
  
And it's embarrassing to cum in broad daylight, more than he thought it would be, more than it's ever been with a girl, but Seunghyun sort of makes it okay with the look on his face and the way he moves and whispers. Jiyong shuts his eyes and _'Fuck, fuck ----',_ cums all over Seunghyun's hand. He can't stop himself. His back raises off the ground and his hands grip uselessly at the tiles.  
  
_'Sorry,'_ he says.  
  
His legs are trembling when Seunghyun finally lets go of him and Seunghyun just looks at him in this weird little way that Jiyong can't figure out.  
  
He's a little more embarrassed now that he's finished, now that he can think straight, not running on wanton need any longer, but not as much as he imagined. He doesn't want to get out as fast as possible like he did with past girlfriends. The second he came, he'd be filled with shame and embarrassment and he'd want to end it, to go back in time and stop it from ever happening. It took over, the guilt swept over him in waves and made him feel ill.  
  
But he doesn't feel that now, or not so much. Only a little. Seunghyun kisses his knee and Jiyong tries to organise his thoughts.  
  
_'What does this mean? Are we going to do this again someday? Did he like it? Is he going to change his mind the second this is over? Did I like it? Am I going to regret this? Should I give him a hand job now or suck his dick?_  
  
Eventually, he regains enough sense to return the favour. It's a little less glamorous than Seunghyun's effort, but he'll get there eventually and it does the job because two minutes after the first tentative lick, Seunghyun's clutching at Jiyong's arm, unravelling in a way Jiyong's never seen before.  
  
It's different to the first time. They were in the dark then and Seunghyun was up against a wall. Jiyong was on his knees. He'd never done it before and it was impersonal, but this? Jiyong can _feel_ him now, feel the muscles tense in his thighs.  
  
When Seunghyun's close, he clutches Jiyong's shoulder. He digs his fingers in hard and it spurs him on. It makes him think, briefly, as nice as it is when Seunghyun's gentle and teasing, how amazing would it be if he weren't? If he was rough? How it would feel to have Seunghyun leave marks? For him to _take._  
  
He gets wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost misses Seunghyun's breathy warning, ' _Fuck --._ His cock twitches in Jiyong's mouth and he thinks he could get used to giving Seunghyun blow jobs. There's something about them, to have so much control.  
  
He pulls away in time, his hand replacing his mouth but Seunghyun mostly comes on himself instead of on him, which is nice of him. He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat and his head falls back. Jiyong watches his chest rise and fall in huge stops and starts. His skin is flushed.  
  
'Seven out of ten,' Seunghyun says, stretching out on the tiles.  
  
It takes Jiyong a minute to realise Seunghyun's _grading_ him and he thanks him by turning the shower back on, cold water blasting down on all their sensitive bits simultaneously.  
  
Seunghyun yells out a corrected 'four out of ten,' and rolls over, but not before punching Jiyong in the thigh as hard as he can.  
  
'At least you're clean now’.  
  
Jiyong cradles his throbbing thigh once the hot water catches up and catches Seunghyun crawling out of the shower on his hands and knees.  
  
_'Hey!'_  
  
He grabs Seunghyun by the leg and forces him to do a u-turn. All jokes aside, he needs to know --- he can't just take this shit at face value. He needs words and reassurance. When Seunghyun is within arms reach again, Jiyong holds him in place so he can't escape and asks him seriously, 'Are we okay? We just did a whole lot of stuff and I don't know if … that's okay? If you're okay with it?'  
  
Seunghyun looks sombre for a moment and Jiyong worries he's going to say something awful like, 'maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now,' but he just whispers quietly, 'you're dumb,' and grabs his hand, kissing the back of it with a loud wet noise that makes Jiyong's skin crawl, but answers his question.  
  
Seunghyun has a dopey look on his face and a big smile and _shit,_ _they're definitely okay!_ Soon --- _probably today_ , Jiyong's going to want to talk about this and the fact they've just _done things_ and nothing bad happened, because that means something, probably, that everything is okay?  
  
But not right now.  
  
Seunghyun crawls to his feet and stretches his arms up over his head while Jiyong watches him. He seems totally fine, like they didn't just, well – _take a shower –_ and Jiyong's enthralled by that. He wants to be like that, easy about everything. Not just pretending.  
  
Seunghyun raises an eyebrow when he catches Jiyong staring but doesn't say anything. He just picks his pants up off the floor and rounds the corner, out of the bathroom entirely. Jiyong watches him go with a funny feeling in his stomach, and yells out eagerly before he can get too far.  
  
'Hey! Are you making breakfast?'

 

  
**THE PRESENT**

  
  
  
  
'I'm taking a shower,' Hyeong-bae says and Jiyong's hand clutches at the air, though he doesn't know why. There's an ache in his gut and then it's gone.  
  
'You don't need to announce it,' Jiyong answers, looking over the back of the couch. 'You can just do things without telling me first'.  
  
Hyeong-bae grins and flicks him on the back of his head as he walks by.  
  
_'Ow!_ '  
  
Hyeong-bae disappears down the hall. He closes the linen closet after a time and returns with a towel over his shoulder. Jiyong looks at him sourly.  
  
'It's polite,' Hyeong-bae says. 'To ask before doing things in another person’s house'.  
  
Jiyong pulls a face and rolls back over, picking the remote up off the floor. He un-mutes the television.  
  
'You practically live here,' he says, 'and you didn't ask anyway, you _told_ '.  
  
'Same thing'.

 


	9. Chapter 9

  
  
'Change your clothes, we're going to the gym'.  
  
Hyeong-bae is standing in the doorway, leering in from the hallway with his arms across his chest, and this has become a habit. Not one so bad as smoking or drinking or a quiet drug addiction, but just as persistent, eating away at him little by little; Hyeong-bae's unflinching attempts to improve his physical fitness.  
  
'No,' Jiyong answers carefully, 'we're not'.  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls his eyes and finds a place on the door frame to support his weight.   
  
'Do you really think you need to go to the gym?' Jiyong asks facetiously, swatting Hyeong-bae's elbow off the door, ‘You've got enough _heft'._  
  
'This body,' Hyeong-bae says gesturing up and down, 'has to be maintained and this,' he gestures towards Jiyong's, 'is disgusting'.  
  
Jiyong folds his arms and tells him he's getting full of himself and it isn't a lie. As forthright and unabashed as Hyeong-bae was that first unmentionable night, it was nothing compared to now. Hyeong-bae has taken root and branched out, with his feelers in every part of Jiyong’s life. Each one as honest and biting as the last. He tells him so.  
  
'I’m _brazen?_ '  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong answers. 'For the record, I don't think those shorts were made for someone your size'. He holds a hand out to block his view. 'Do you shave your legs?'   
  
Hyeong-bae looks embarrassed but holds it together long enough to push the door open, sending Jiyong toppling inside.  
  
'You need to exercise,' Hyeong-bae says. 'You'll feel better'.  
  
'I'll feel pain,' Jiyong answers, heading back to the lounge. 'That's not _better_ '.  
  
Of all the ways Hyeong-bae has been trying to fix him, his newfound interest in his physical fitness is by far the worst. Jiyong's muscles ache just thinking about it. Hyeong-bae follows him to the lounge but doesn't sit down and Jiyong doesn't press him to. He leaves him by the window in his gym clothes and sprawls out on the lounge, kicking his legs up over the armrest.  
  
'Jiyong –'  
  
It usually starts this way. Jiyong pulls a cushion from beneath him and presses it over his face.  
  
'You've been like this for weeks. Stop trying to _fix me_ ,’ he begs.  
  
Hyeong-bae grumbles his dissatisfaction. 'You're a celebrity, you're supposed to be fit!'  
  
'Not me'.  
  
'Because you're the exception to every rule?'  
  
'I am to that one. I read it in a magazine,' Jiyong says earnestly.  
  
'What?'  
  
‘People like it when I look fey and effeminate,' he says with a glib smile. ‘When I’ve got too much muscle, it ruins the fantasy’.  
  
'I hate to tell you,' Hyeong-bae starts, 'but you're not skinny any more. You've got a gut. You're getting fat. You took a 15-minute break on the stairs last week. You sat down and told me to _leave you behind'._  
  
Jiyong snorts. That wasn't his fault, he ate a big lunch and got a stitch on the 10 th floor, he didn't have a choice. Hyeong-bae clutches his side and takes to one knee, making his already tight shorts even tighter. Jiyong tries to suppress a snigger. He watches Hyeong-bae re-enact what he's now calling, 'The stairs incident,' playing it like a death scene at the theatre. He slowly sinks further to the floor, sounding increasingly pathetic, _'It's all over for me! I've led a good life --- but death takes us all ---_ ' and then he slumps over, lifeless on the floor.  
  
Jiyong laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth.   
  
'That was stunning!' he says seriously when Hyeong-bae gets to his feet. 'Like Shakespeare!'  
  
He takes a bow and Jiyong rolls over so he's on his side.  
  
'For the record, I always need a break when I take the stairs. It's tradition'.  
  
Hyeong-bae throws his arms up loftily in deference as if to say, 'Oh, well if it's _tradition_ \---'  
  
'Forget you!' Jiyong says, 'It's none of your business anyway! Maybe I want to get fat? I don't need to exercise. Why bother? Who's it for?'  
  
'Yourself?'  
  
Jiyong takes on a more serious tone and props his head up using his elbow. 'You know what they say --- don't waste a gift on someone who won't appreciate it'.  
  
'Oh, is that what they say?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
'I think you'd feel better if you started coming to the gym,' Hyeong-bae says. 'We don't even have to go there if you don't want, we could do something else, go for a run or walk up and down the stairs here? You need some exercise'.  
  
'I can think of easier ways to exercise than running up and down the stairs,' Jiyong groans.  
  
'Like what?'  
  
'Sex'.  
  
He's sure the lack of sex has had _a_ semblance of responsibility in him gaining a few pounds. There hasn't been anyone since Seunghyun. His sex drive has all but wittered away. He barely has the wherewithal to jerk off let alone have full blown sex with someone. Even allowing himself a blow job seems too much, and if you aren't trying to have sex with someone, why bother going to the gym?  
  
Even when he and Seunghyun _were_ together, his laziness won out. He tried at the start of their relationship to be in shape 24/7 --- he needed Seunghyun to really _want_ him, but all that was a futile occupation. It didn't take long for Jiyong to realise Seunghyun liked him better when he didn't bother. He didn't like him skinny and he didn't like him absent and tired which is what Jiyong was when he tried to work out on a regular basis.  
  
So --- no Seunghyun, no-one else, no sex.  
  
It’s pathetic but in his mind, he isn't exactly single. He never broke up with Seunghyun. He doesn’t _want_ sex. His body seems unanimously to agree. It isn't the right thing to do. He doesn't need sex yet, he'll go without. It’s all timing.  
  
Hyeong-bae seems so uncomfortable at the base of the lounge, Jiyong almost laughs at him.  
  
For all the heart to hearts they've had in the last two months, Hyeong-bae seems ultimately afraid of sex, of the whole _discussion_. Jiyong chalks that up to his bad break-up, it probably rouses unpleasant memories and Jiyong can understand that.  
  
'While you're at the gym, I'll find a nice girl to have sex with and burn off a couple of hundred calories that way, alright?'  
  
Hyeong-bae blushes and shifts his weight. Discomfort aside, he still manages, under his breath, to say, 'A couple of hundred? Optimistic'.  
  
Jiyong glares and Hyeong-bae doesn't say anything after that. He just returns Jiyong's glare with a more desultory look of his own.  
  
'What?’ Jiyong snaps. ‘ _Fucking_ is a lot better than hauling my fat ass to a gym where someone can take a snapshot of my big ass and post it on the internet!'  
  
‘You're a pain in _my_ ass'.  
  
Jiyong props himself up on both elbows and kicks a cushion near his feet in Hyeong-bae's general direction.  
  
'You only want me to go so I'll _drive_ you. You don't want to catch a bus to the gym. How about you learn how to drive!' Jiyong chides.   
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't like that. He doesn't usually –-- anything that makes him sound like a leech and he seems to disappear.  
  
'I'm leaving now!' he calls, already nearing the corner of the room. He started walking as soon as Jiyong began his sentence. He never tries very hard.  
  
'I'm going to eat a whole packet of biscuits!' Jiyong shouts after him.  
  
When the door slams shut, Jiyong flops back down on the couch. Hyeong-bae's visits are a bit like that. Sometimes he shows up and never leaves. He sleeps in the spare room for the night or two or three. Other visits last only minutes.   
  
That aside, he seems to always be around, even when he isn't.  
  
It’s nearing the two-month mark since Jiyong's ' _not gonna talk about it'_ near death experience and Hyeong-bae has become a fixture. During the first month, he took it upon himself to mould Jiyong into the 6 million dollar man. His attempts have been resolutely unsuccessful. His pleas for physical fitness have fallen on deaf ears, hounding visits in tiny gym shorts aside.   
  
'We're going to the gym!' he'll say, and Jiyong will laugh or cry or lay down on the floor in a dramatic display of protest until Hyeong-bae gets sick of him and leaves.  
  
In a crude display of torture, Hyeong-bae planted himself in Jiyong's kitchen one night and tried to buy a treadmill so he could exercise at home. He made the mistake of warning him first, _‘this treadmill i'm buying is going to solve all your problems'_. Jiyong had flown over the back of the lounge like a ballet dancer, sliding across the floorboards in his socks. He slammed the lid of the laptop shut and absconded with it before Hyeong-bae knew what hit him. As far as he knew, it was still buried in a pile of towels in the linen closet.  
  
Jiyong was conscious of certain facts though, like Hyeong-bae's taunts of, 'you're getting fat,' being unashamedly true. His face is rounder than usual. Where he was once angular, he is now soft edges. His thighs are fuller, he has an ass again, and his abs are buried under an inch of gut. Hyeong-bae notes how that makes the tattoos over his belly-button needlessly comical and Jiyong agrees but doesn't mind.  
  
He lets his hair grow out, so over his swelling cheeks there is a frame of brown hair that goes down past his ears. He tells himself he’s trying a new look. _Au naturale._ There is no-one to impress any longer so he does what he likes --- and as it turns out, what he likes is nothing. He is taking a sabbatical, not just from work but from effort.  
  
He told himself six to eight months would be enough; a holiday. A real legitimate break from hard work and sleepless nights and then he'd get back on the horse and never get off again. Music was his life and he had to go back to that, he _had_ to go back to work. He just needed some time. He needed to _allow_ himself time instead of agonising over every day he _wasn't_ working. If he set a time limit, he could sleep easier.  
  
So he let himself go. He got a little chubby and so what? He wasn't a 'public eye' kind of guy anymore. That said, Hyeong-bae had been mostly successful in his attempts to drag him out of the apartment for other things. At the start of their friendship, Jiyong had resisted. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to sulk and mope around but Hyeong-bae didn't go away. He was persistent and honest and one day over coffee told him simply to, 'get over it!'  
  
'Your girl is gone, she left you and that sucks but it's been months so get over it! Stop being such a fucking crybaby and live your life!'  
  
Jiyong told him to fuck himself, ' _You don't know anything!'_ and left him stranded in a park but when Hyeong-bae found his way back to the apartment two days later with food in hand, Jiyong let him in without a fuss.  
  
He was always there, whether Jiyong wanted him there or not --- and as the days rolled by and turned into weeks, his constant presence began to change him. Hyeong-bae seemed to help in all the areas of his life that needed it. He took him to movies and obscure cafes, stores and parks, places so out of the way, almost no-one approached him. Jiyong chalked some of that up to Hyeong-bae being the incredible hulk --- he imagined people mistook him for someone else, his bodyguard maybe. Fans thought twice about approaching when Hyeong-bae was leering at them from on high. If he spotted someone change direction, a fan coming too close --- Hyeong-bae would pull a face or make a gesture that seemed simultaneously to say 'Sorry' and 'Don't even try it' at once, that had an alarming success rate.  
  
Going out with Hyeong-bae was like venturing out as a normal human being for once and Jiyong couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way. In the part of him still willing to think about Seunghyun, he could understand at last, the habit he had of disguising himself to feel ordinary.  
  
Being nobody was good for the soul.  
  
He tried not to think about Seunghyun as much as possible. It was how he coped. Seunghyun never happened, as often as he could tell himself so. The slate was wiped clean. Hyeong-bae was a distraction. He was loud and simple and he liked to move constantly, always going somewhere or doing something and Jiyong gave into it. He needed to. He wanted to forget and Hyeong-bae kept him so busy that Seunghyun stayed well beneath the surface.  
  
Jiyong tried to spend time with his other friends too, tried to reconnect --- he even made it out two or three times but he balked at the sight of alcohol and always left early. The one time he downed a glass of whiskey, he threw it up in a panic ten minutes later.  
  
He tried not to think about drinking either.  
  
He worked his way up to seeing other friends once a fortnight at best. He'd steer clear of drinking, chain smoking instead. He _focussed_ on Hyeong-bae. He cajoled him into coming over –- into hanging out. He needed someone to occupy his time, someone who wouldn't expect him to be something he couldn't be, who had no expectations beyond what he was currently capable of.   
  
Hyeong-bae seemed willing enough. He seemed to revel in the time they spent together and as Jiyong found out, he had no job, no obligations. He was always available. So, he gave up on most of his friends for a time. He gave up on all but the most cursory outings with Seungri, stuck mostly to phone-calls and texts and Hyeong-bae became the bulk of his connection to the world.  
  
They adopted, for their own reasons, a kind of familial surrogacy.  
  
Jiyong had spilled his whole sad story to Hyeong-bae on the floor of his apartment. He told him things he'd never told anyone after a _week_ of knowing him. The longer they spent together, the more he said until Jiyong had barely a secret left. Only the important one --- Seunghyun.  
  
It seemed to go both ways. It took four weeks of lengthy heart to hearts to get Hyeong-bae to admit he was living on the poverty line, but he did, teary eyes and embarrassment aside. Jiyong had assumed already. It didn't take a genius to see Hyeong-bae's apartment, the way he didn't waste anything, the way he carried himself, to know he was struggling. Hyeong-bae had mannerisms he let slip when he wasn't careful. He was used to going without, not just physically, with material objects and physical security but emotionally as well.  
  
Hyeong-bae was cut off. His family disinherited him for reasons he wouldn't say. He said it didn't matter, his family lost their money after the falling out. Even if he went grovelling, there was nothing they could do for him. Jiyong asked questions about his family that went unanswered. 'But don't you miss them?' he'd ask.  
  
Hyeong-bae wasn't big on that. He was open and honest about everything, but not his family.   
  
They were his open wound, the way Seunghyun was his.  
  
They would have their adult conversations. They talked of regrets, worries and fears, the good times and it was cathartic. The way venturing out held Jiyong together, their conversations seemed to rearrange him. He just felt better having him around.  
  
He used Hyeong-bae to reintegrate into society and Hyeong-bae used him for security, for the money he wouldn't openly accept and for someone to talk to. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Which wasn't to say they didn't genuinely like each other because Jiyong _did_ like Hyeong-bae.   
  
In some ways, Hyeong-bae and Seunghyun were similar. He was childish and got lost sometimes in his own excitement. He was funny and warm, kind and simple. He had this energy that came from nowhere --- but they were dissimilar in other ways, important ways.  
  
Seunghyun was sensitive and fragile. He was full of secrets --- there were parts of his life he couldn't share, not even with Jiyong, the man he loved. He was emotional. Seunghyun felt too deeply, not only the good but the bad. His emotions consumed him. Those were things Jiyong had loved in him. The weaknesses that made him different.  
  
Hyeong-bae was open. He had no secrets, when he spoke about things that upset him, he was blunt. He asked questions without reservations and he held nothing back. He was honest and Jiyong trusted him. He didn't seem the sort of person who'd disappear without saying goodbye and Jiyong needed that. He needed someone who'd stay. Now more than ever, he couldn't be alone.  
  
So it was that Hyeong-bae became vital. In a short amount of time, Jiyong made him family. A brother --- someone tied to him by blood.  
  
Someone who couldn't leave.

 

 

  
  
*  


  
  
  
  
Things began to change at Christmas.  
  
Jiyong gave Hyeong-bae the key to his apartment when he went home for the holidays. A part of him wondered if he shouldn't. He had only known him two months. Now he was leaving him alone in the apartment? His home? Millions of won worth of clothes and jewellery and furniture, open and vulnerable. Susceptible to sticky fingers.  
  
He didn't have much to go on but a gut feeling that when he returned, all his things would still be there. Hyeong-bae had nowhere to go for Christmas. He was estranged from his own family and Jiyong wasn't in a position to extend the invitation to join his. He didn't really want to. So, he gave him a key instead. He said, 'Stay here. It's better than spending Christmas in your own shitty apartment,' and off he went.  
  
Home.  
  
Hyeong-bae had set up code words for emergencies. If Jiyong wanted to leave early, he'd call up with a pre-determined phrase. Half an hour later, Hyeong-bae would ring back with a fake emergency and Jiyong could rush home. He had even given them code names.  
  
It was stupid but it made Jiyong laugh.   
  
He was apprehensive about going home. It hadn't ended well the last time he went back and he didn't know if he was up to a grilling by the extended family.   
  
'What are you up to? Why is there no album yet? Aren't you working?'  
  
'How's the group?'

'Getting ready for the military?'

'You look _different'_

'Why don't you ever visit us?'  
  
And there was always someone who subtly indicated that they were in need of some charity, 'we're all going through hard times,' and 'the economy these days ---' and the more direct, 'I don't know how I'll ever pay the bills on time'.  
  
Worst of all wasn't the grilling or the scrutiny or Hyeong-bae's absence or being forced to fend for himself, it was Christmas itself and a memory.  
  
He spent last Christmas with Seunghyun.   
  
For all the good Hyeong-bae had done and all the ways he had pulled Jiyong from the brink, there was still a void --- a gaping hole left by Seunghyun and his absence. No matter how enthralled he was with Hyeong-bae's jokes and his charm and how grateful he was for the company, there was always a part of him reeling and feeling desperately alone.  
  
  
  


  
*  
  
  
**LAST CHRISTMAS**  


 

It was dark inside Seunghyun's apartment and quiet. The only sound came from behind him, from the din of rain hitting the roof and the metal slats on the stairs. Jiyong could barely see ahead of him but for a lamp on the floor against a far wall. The light bounced off furniture and lit up the ground but nothing higher. It made the whole place eerie, like watching the sun set on the inside. The place was in disarray. One of the chairs was upturned. The rug was bunched up and folded in on itself. There were cushions all over the floor like stepping stones.  
  
Seunghyun's lounge-room was cluttered. It had been turned upside down. The leather lounge had been turned so it faced the wall instead of the television. On one end, there was a pillow off the bed. On the floor beside it there was a glass and behind that, bottles of wine, empty and half-full, the right way up and knocked over.  
  
Jiyong closed the door behind him with the tips of his fingers.   
  
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the extent and breadth of the damage. Where the coffee table used to be, there was a book, strewn papers on the floor leading out in every direction. There were outcroppings of paper planes. Jiyong wondered what lay in the dark, and how far the damage went or if it was unique to this room. If all of Seunghyun's anger had been localised here because that's what it had to be. _Anger_. Seunghyun had damaged _everything._  
  
He couldn't figure out what Seunghyun had done or what had happened to him. It didn't make sense that he could fall off the rails without anybody noticing. Jiyong most of all, because he noticed a hell of a lot and this time, whatever it was, he'd missed it.  
  
He'd noticed in a vague way, that Seunghyun had been quiet for a few days. Fewer texts and no calls. He went quietly off the grid and Jiyong had let it go. He was busy, they weren't attached at the hip. He didn't have any expectation that Seunghyun would be there _all_ the time and it was just that time of year. Things escaped him.   
  
He had three bags in the boot of his car and a schedule he had already blown by several hours simply turning up here, but he wanted to say goodbye before he left. It was Christmas Eve. He was going home, everyone else had already gone their separate ways, to family or holidays abroad and Seunghyun --- well Jiyong didn't know where he was going. He just didn't say. A month earlier he'd said _home_. He was going to stay with his mother. His sister was making the trip with her partner. It was a big family reunion, grandmother and all _._ He was glad at first but the closer it drew, the quieter he became. He stopped talking about it.  
  
Jiyong shrugged it off because Seunghyun got tired of things easily. He didn't like to talk about his family all that much and Jiyong figured relationship aside, maybe Seunghyun wanted to keep some distance between him and his family.   
  
Jiyong would talk about his own holiday and show Seunghyun pictures of his nephews and the house and the Christmas tree his mother had taken a photo of with her new Samsung and Seunghyun would smile and make small remarks and that was it.   
  
He didn't bring up his own plans.  
  
'When are you leaving?' Jiyong would ask, and Seunghyun would shrug. He wouldn't answer, he'd brush him off, he'd change the subject.  
  
Jiyong's holiday had a similar ring to it; his parents, his sister, her husband, his nephew, his grandparents. A Kwon family Christmas. The only party missing was Gaho and he was going to pick him up on the way.  
  
They all had their plans.  
  
Jiyong had made a joke about taking Seunghyun home for Christmas. They both laughed and shrugged it off. They spent a lot of time apart when they were busy, it wasn't a big deal that they wouldn't be together for Christmas. They'd call and text and discretely video-chat and in the end, they'd only be apart for a fortnight. By now, they understood the limitations of their relationship. There were simply things they couldn't do.  
  
When Seunghyun became quiet, Jiyong shrugged it off. Seunghyun sometimes got that way, without rhyme or reason. He'd just quietly disappear for a few days and then come back good as new.  
  
Jiyong thought this was one of those --- a little breather before Seunghyun succumbed to his mother’s idea of Christmas, which meant 100 family portraits and a lot of soul-searching about gratitude and giving thanks, and not enough of the things Seunghyun loved ie. presents and food.  
  
Jiyong had called him a few times during the day while he packed, sent a few texts in between dashes to the car with his bags and then again after he put his on seatbelt in the underground carpark. There was no reply. So, he took a detour to Seunghyun's villa on the way home and although the lights were off when he pulled up outside, he wanted to make _sure._ He wanted to know that Seunghyun had gone home and that he was alright because with all the commotion of planning and packing and buying last-minute gifts over and done with, Jiyong had time to think again. Now, all he could think about was Seunghyun and the way he wouldn't answer his questions and the way he'd stopped answering his messages.  
  
It just wasn't that Christmassy.  
  
So, he got out of the car despite all his misgivings and made his way up the stairs to Seunghyun's front door. He rang the bell, thinking about other things, the roads he could take on the drive home to make-up time, if he could shave ten minutes off the trip by taking the long way – circumventing the city traffic.  
  
Then he heard the lock on the other side of the door snap open and the quiet beep of the alarm being deactivated from the inside.  
  
Jiyong was staring at the ground, his teeth chattering madly together, when the door opened. He saw Seunghyun’s bare feet first. As he looked up and saw the rest of him, he forgot all about the drive home.  
  
Seunghyun wasn't home with his family like he was supposed to be, he was there at the villa on Christmas Eve, alone. It was dark inside and he looked tired and dishevelled like he'd been sleeping. He was in his boxers and a t-shirt and he didn't look well. He opened the door and wordlessly retreated.  
  
Jiyong followed him inside.  
  
There was the scene, chair upturned, rug folded over, papers, cushions, bottles of wine. Half the furniture Jiyong was used to seeing wasn't there anymore but Seunghyun _was_ and he wasn't supposed to be. Seunghyun sank down onto the lounge and seemed to disappear into the furniture. With his head on the pillow, he pulled his feet up onto the cushions. He curled in on himself and laid still.   
  
Jiyong followed him in. He wasn't sure what to say or do except keep quiet and move carefully. When he moved into the light he saw things he couldn't see from the door. Seunghyun's phone was on the ground by his feet, pulled apart, but not out of anger like everything else. It was carefully dissected, carefully placed, everything laid down in order of size. The sim card next to the battery, next to the front case next to parts Jiyong didn't even recognise.  
  
It explained why he wouldn't answer any messages, if nothing else.  
  
Jiyong stepped over it carefully and sat down on the floor in front of him. Seunghyun's eyes were closed, his hands bunched up underneath the pillow.  
  
'Merry Christmas,' Jiyong whispered.  
  
Seunghyun's eyes flittered open and he answered quietly in response, 'Merry Christmas'.  
  
His expression didn't change, he looked absent and sounded the same. Jiyong reached out slowly and laid a hand on the lounge, extending a finger to Seunghyun's arm. He didn't want to grab him or give him a hug, he didn't know what Seunghyun wanted or needed from him, but he wanted to _touch_ him. Wanted Seunghyun to feel him there, not just see him through vacant eyes.  
  
'What's all this?' he asked quietly, gesturing around with a nod of his head.  
  
Seunghyun answered him as quickly as before, 'I don't know'.  
  
'I thought you were going home for Christmas?'  
  
Jiyong extended an extra finger to Seunghyun's arm. There was no answer to that. Seunghyun didn't _want_ to answer so Jiyong didn't ask again. He tried other questions, some he answered, some he didn't.  
  
'How long have you been out here?'  
  
'When was the last time you ate?'  
  
'Are you sick?'  
  
'Have you told your family you're not coming?'  
  
He had little success with any of his questions, no matter how carefully delivered. A string went unanswered so Jiyong asked the only question he had left after a decent stretch of silence.  
  
'Can I stay with you?'  
  
'If you want'.

After that, Jiyong decided his plans had changed. He couldn't get an answer out of Seunghyun about his parents. He didn't seem to want to acknowledge them at all so Jiyong went outside to grab his bags, and while shivering in the car made a call, first to Seunghyun's family and then to his own.  
  
Seunghyun's family had been expecting him since the night before. They were worried about him. Jiyong told them he had the flu but was going to be looked after. He'd call when he felt better. He told his own family a similar lie.  
  
It took an hour for Jiyong to convince Seunghyun to go to bed, that the lounge-room wasn't a suitable place to set-up camp and then, while Seunghyun was sleeping, he cleaned the place up. He found the missing furniture all around the apartment and took three trash-bags worth of broken shit down to the street. He managed against all odds to find food in the fridge and threw something together that Seunghyun would swallow down.  
  
Then they were there again, together in silence.  
  
Tired, Jiyong crawled into Seunghyun's bed. He didn't touch him or try to talk, he just wanted to rest, wanted to sleep. If Seunghyun wanted to talk to him, he would. Jiyong knew him well enough to know you had to wait.  
  
So, he went to sleep on the other side of the bed, with two feet between them.  
  
When he woke up, they were together. Seunghyun was pressed behind him with an arm around his waist, still sleeping. With the morning light filtering in through the curtains, Jiyong could almost forget the night before. He could tell himself this was a nice way to wake up on Christmas day. Against the alternative of having his nephew jumping on his crotch at 6am, it could definitely be worse.  
  
When Seunghyun woke up though, he wasn't any different. Face to face under the covers, Jiyong broke the silence with a quiet, 'I love you'. He wanted to say it as much as he thought Seunghyun might need to hear it.  
  
Seunghyun didn't answer at first but when he did, it was with a quiet, 'Why?'   
  
Jiyong was taken aback. _Why?_ He'd asked. _Why do you love me?_ Jiyong could have laughed or hit him because what a stupid fucking question to ask, after everything they'd been through.   
  
He took a moment to think about it, the right way to explain all the things about Seunghyun that made him irreplaceable and necessary. Everything Seunghyun said and did to make his life a little better --- he tried to think of some way of explaining how important he really was, but he couldn't find the words. _I love you_ seemed to cover it best and that wasn't good enough.  
  
'Do you love _me_?' Jiyong asked him back. When Seunghyun nodded, he asked, 'Why?'  
  
Without skipping a beat, without the genuine thought Jiyong had given the same question, Seunghyun answered blankly, 'lots of reasons'.  
  
It was the perfect answer. He couldn't have liked it better if Seunghyun had spent an hour recounting all the things he actually did love about him. He just raised an eyebrow, like, ' _well there you go'_. That explains it all. _I love you for lots of reasons._  
  
'What's wrong?' Jiyong asked, holding Seunghyun's arm. 'What's happened? Why are you here alone? You were supposed to be home with your family. What's going on?'  
  
'Nothing'.  
  
'Doesn't _look_ like nothing'.  
  
Then it happened, the last thing Jiyong expected. Something that made his chest ache for days, that left a feeling in the pit of his stomach he simply couldn't shake.  
  
Seunghyun cried.  
  
Jiyong had seen him cry before but not like that. That was something new, something he couldn't even begin to understand. He'd never seen anyone cry the way Seunghyun was crying then, curled up on the bed in the fetal position. He wasn't sad, he was _suffering_ , he was in _agony_ and Jiyong couldn't do or say anything to make it better. He didn't understand.  
  
Seunghyun cried for twenty minutes, he couldn't stop. He just cried and cried and Jiyong couldn't do anything for him but hold onto him and hope that him being there was helping somehow. He just watched and waited and prayed to god that whatever was wrong would go away; that it _could_ go away.  
  
He doubted anyone in Seunghyun's life had ever seen him that way. He doubted Seunghyun had ever even _been_ that way before. The whole ordeal made him ill. It made him nervous for days afterwards and he couldn't shake it off.  
  
Through sheer perseverance and force of will, he coaxed Seunghyun out of his silence throughout the day. He got him to the lounge, got him to watch a whole hour of Christmas themed morning television, got him to eat, got him to take a shower, and at 6pm when the day was half over, actually got him to laugh.  
  
'Feeling any better?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugged, like he wanted to say yes but couldn't do it.  
  
'Do you love me?' Jiyong asked.  
  
Seunghyun pulled him in gently by his wrist and cupped his cheeks between his hands.   
  
'I love you'.  
  
Jiyong stood on the tips of his toes and gave him a kiss and whispered into the side of his mouth, 'Well whatever is going on, it's not completely hopeless'.  
  
Seunghyun kissed him on the forehead and then took his hands in his own, interlacing their fingers.  
  
'I'm sorry for ruining your Christmas'.  
  
He sounded serious and apologetic and Jiyong smiled and pulled their interlocked hands into his chest.  
  
'You didn't ruin my Christmas. I can think of worse ways to spend it than with you and it's still early. Things can pick up’.  
  
Seunghyun grimaced.  
  
Hours later, Jiyong lay with him on the bed and kissed him. He tried to coax him out of his shell by being physical with him. It wasn't a tact he'd usually go for, but part of him thought, 'what else can I possibly try?' They had simply run out of other means.  
  
So, he kissed him and he persevered until Seunghyun kissed him back, even if he didn't seem interested. It was all Jiyong had up his sleeve. He tried to tell himself he had power here. Seunghyun _truste_ d him, enough to let him in --- physically and emotionally. He let him stay when he wanted to be alone and he trusted and loved him enough to have a complete mental breakdown in front of him. That kind of trust had to go a little further. Seunghyun deep down, had to trust Jiyong enough to let him help.  
  
'I don’t think I can. Not today’.  
  
'You won't know unless you try,' Jiyong whispered, kissing Seunghyun's chin. 'It doesn't matter if you can't, I understand'.  
  
He persevered with gentle kisses and light touches until Seunghyun responded, if only a little.  
  
He eventually relented.  
  
It was slow and gentle and the pace of Seunghyun's breathing told Jiyong he'd calmed down, and that was good, that was better than 'uncontrollable sobbing'. They had sex and it wasn't a mad passionate dash to the finish line, it was something else. It was quiet and slow and gentle because what Seunghyun needed wasn't to fuck or to lose himself in the act, he needed _intimacy_. He needed love and contact and warmth and support and in a strange way, that felt to Jiyong the right way to provide for him.  
  
It seemed to calm him for a while.

  
  


*  
  
  
  


Jiyong spent his _entire_ Christmas break trying to understand what Seunghyun was going through, trying to understand what had happened to him but at the end of it all, he had no idea. As far as he could tell, Seunghyun was depressed for no reason. He woke up one day and felt different and that was all there was to it. Nothing had triggered it, it was just something there, inside him, waiting to come out.  
  
It took a few days, but with him constantly there, always by his side, Seunghyun brightened up by degrees until eventually he was his old self again.  
  
They never talked about what happened, the closest Seunghyun ever came to explaining himself was a quiet, ' _Thank-you for being there,'_ and Jiyong decided not to push him or probe him. He'd been there, he had helped and that was enough.  
  
Seunghyun had a bad week, and then it ended.  


  
  
*  
  
  
  


**PRESENT**  
  


 

Jiyong sat there on the couch in his parent’s lounge-room, in a room stuffed with people, and he couldn't help but remember. His uncle gave a present, a little wrapped jewellery box, to his aunt and said, 'I love you,' and despite all the time that had elapsed, Jiyong could still hear Seunghyun in his head saying, _'I love you. I'm sorry for ruining your Christmas'._  
  
He dug his nails into his thigh.  
  
_You are ruining my Christmas,_ he thought. _You're not even here and you're ruining it._  
  
Jiyong did his best to be happy and grateful; to appreciate the time with his parents, to see people he hadn't seen since he was young. He brightened up when he gave his nephew a little toy car he could ride around the house in. It had a tiny motor and his sister scolded him for buying something so dangerous.  
  
'Put a helmet on him,' Jiyong said.  
  
The little car did the rounds all over the house, colliding with peoples shins and ankles alike and if nothing else, that put a smile on Jiyong's face. Every time he heard a sudden shout from a distant room, he knew his nephew had crashed into somebody on purpose.

As the hours wore on though, the memories descended. There was something about the holidays that had the power to heal all wounds or make them deeper and Jiyong wasn't so lucky. Every happy face, every kind word, every thoughtful gesture and Jiyong couldn't _help_ remembering. He'd sit across the room from distant relations married thirty years who still _loved_ each-other somehow and it reminded him of what he'd lost. It was hard to stay positive.  
  
He gave everyone their gifts, some bigger than others. He hugged his parents and his sister and he did everything humanly possible to be happy.  
  
He didn't just miss Seunghyun, he missed Hyeong-bae and his shitty jokes and his fucking gym shorts and Jiyong would have given anything to be at home fending off exercise instead of where he was, feeling hopelessly alone.  
  
He had to go home.   
  
He was supposed to spend the week with his parents but he couldn't do it. Not tonight anyway, not with so many people, with so many unrelenting questions and reminders. He had to get out. So, he snuck away into the kitchen and clutched the phone in his hand. He was going to call Hyeong-bae. He was coming home early.  
  
_Was._  
  
His mother came in a moment later and shut the sliding doors behind her that separated the kitchen from the dining area. She walked to the second door and closed that too, but not before his uncle and sister dashed inside sensing _family drama_. His mother closed the door and he was trapped. It was an intervention, he thought. His mother told him in no polite terms that he was depressing everybody, a statement his sister joyfully repeated.  
  
'What's wrong with you?' she asked.  
  
'I'm _fine_ '.  
  
It didn't take five minutes of them poking and prodding at his emotional wounds to get him to speak up, if only to stop the harangue of 'were you dumped?' 'Music not going well?' 'Got yourself into trouble?'  
  
And so it was that he found himself retelling ' _The story'_ all over again. He felt cornered, smothered by the smallness of the room and he couldn't think of a lie fast enough, so he told the truth. The same story he'd told Hyeong-bae for the most part.  
  
A part of him was tired of reliving the past and dwelling on this _stupid_ thing --- this thing he couldn't let go of, but another part thought it might help. Maybe he needed to talk about it. Maybe if he could vent enough of his rage and his hurt then he could finally move on. If spilling the whole sorry truth to anyone was going to help him, his mother was the best chance he had. He should have told her from the beginning, but it was too fresh when he last saw her. He couldn't tell her.  
  
So, he sat there in the kitchen his mother had closed off from the party and explained it all. He confessed that he had lied the year before to avoid coming home. He had a girlfriend and had spent Christmas with her instead. Hence the memories. That was why he didn't come home last year. _'I'm sorry for lying'._  
  
His mother looked happy and then confused and she seemed to go from one to the other as he told his story, right up to the part that hurt him the most. The part where his girlfriend left.  
  
'That's why you came home a few months ago? Why you stayed with us?'  
  
His sister said, 'I knew it!' and he withered.  
  
'What happened?' his mother asked.  
  
Jiyong told her everything, with key points left out because telling Hyeong-bae was a different thing to telling his family. He did tell the truth in some respects. They didn't formally break up. She left him and disappeared. When they asked who she was, what she did --- Jiyong said what was easiest to remember, what was closest to the truth, that she worked for the Company.  
  
'Never mix business with pleasure,' his uncle said admonishingly. 'You never heard that before?'  
  
'Well you can't help it sometimes!' Jiyong snapped. 'Shit happens!'  
  
' _Jiyong'._  
  
He muttered an apology and buried his face in his hands, slumping far enough over the table that nobody could see his face and vice versa. His mother ushered everyone out of the room, and Jiyong didn't know if he was grateful or not.  
  
‘Why didn't you call her?' she asked quietly, when it was just the two of them.  
  
'I did,' Jiyong choked. 'I left 20 messages on her phone but when I went to her apartment, she'd left it behind. She didn't get any of them’.  
  
'And after she left? You said she still works for the company, just not in Seoul? Surely the company would have her contact information? Have someone find her phone number and call her. How can you move on when you don't know what happened? It's not right for a woman to leave that way. You should talk to her'.  
  
It was so stupid he could have laughed. He had biting words on the tip of his tongue, _'It's not that simple!_ ' but as his lips parted to speak, his stomach dropped. He felt a sudden wave of revulsion, a writhing in his stomach that threatened to boil over and out. He wanted to be sick.  
  
It _was_ that simple.  
  
_He could call._  
  
It had never occurred to him, not in four months to ask the _company_ for Seunghyun's phone number. Out of respect? He loved Seunghyun and it was so obvious he wanted to be left alone, the subconscious part of his mind that wasn't furious and hurt must have respected that. But now? He was trying to move on with his life and Seunghyun was an obstacle, a road block he couldn't pass.  
  
He could call him.  
  
He could hear his voice.  
  
'Honey?'  
  
Jiyong realised he had tears streaming down his cheeks. He brushed them away and cleared his throat. He tried to pretend it hadn't happened but it had.  
  
'Who was this girl?’ she asked him. ‘How serious was it? Why didn't you ever tell us you were in love?'  
  
Jiyong bit his lip and his jaw clenched tight, trying to reign in his emotions. He wanted so desperately to tell the truth, to unload everything onto his mother --- the one person who could make it all better.  
  
'I just wanted it to be a secret,' Jiyong answered earnestly. 'Just the two of us --- no pressure, nothing complicated. I didn't want anything to go wrong'.  
  
'And you loved her? Did you want to marry her?'  
  
Jiyong scoffed and pulled his hand out of his mother’s iron grip, 'God mom, _no'_.  
  
'What's so wrong with that? You're almost 27. You're old enough to think about kids and a wife and settling down!'  
  
Jiyong shook his head, a desperate smile on his lips as he wiped away stubborn tears.  
  
'No, it wasn't like that. We were never having kids Mom, we were never getting married --- we were just ---- I don't know'.  
  
'If you weren't going to marry her, why are you so upset? If she wasn't the one? You're getting older, you have to focus on your future, having kids and starting a family. You can't waste your time forever’.  
  
Jiyong felt a tug at his heart, offended and then angry and as quick as all that, despair.  
  
He had never considered that either. A part of him thought how different things might have been if he'd talked to his mother to begin with and heard her voice of reason sooner. She didn't know how right she was, how hurtful it was to hear the truth.  
  
Seunghyun wasn't his future. He wasn't his family. They were never having kids together, so what hope was there? Right from the beginning, why did they even try? Their entire relationship had been hopeless from the start. The thought of settling down, of finding a wife and having kids, something he'd always wanted, suddenly broke his heart. Torn between Seunghyun and their life together --- or the kids he wanted desperately to have one day? Of a stable life? If Seunghyun had never left him, if they had stayed together, how long would it have lasted?   
  
How do make yourself stop loving someone because they can't have your kids?   
  
Would he have kept on loving him, found a wife and had a baby and all the while thought about Seunghyun? Or would he have fallen out of love with him naturally? Would a wife and a baby simply overwrite everything else? Maybe, when the time came, he would have chosen Seunghyun over that picture-book life. Was that realistic?  
  
Did Seunghyun want a family one day? Did he want kids and a wife and a stable life? Jiyong thought so sometimes. They'd spoken about it before but even then, with the occasional talk of kids --- they were never _their_ kids. Jiyong never once thought about Seunghyun being around when his kids were. He always imagined a wife. They both unwittingly spoke about their futures without each other without realising what they were doing.  
  
They had written each other out.  
  
Staying together forever had never been an option.  
  
Jiyong imagined he could feel his heart literally split in two. It hammered so painfully in his chest, he clutched at his shirt to try and still it.

 

 

*  


 

An hour later, he is on the floor of his bedroom, squeezed tightly into the space between the foot of his bed and the wall. He has the phone pressed to his ear and the line is ringing. His heart pounds in his chest. There won't be anyone there, nobody will answer, it's the holidays, they're closed for business.  
  
He tells himself that over and over, a mantra to calm his nerves. He made a decision. He'll ring the office. If someone answers who can help him, who can pass along Seunghyun's number then he'll use it. He'll call Seunghyun in Japan and whatever comes from that---  
  
But if nobody answers, which they shouldn't, not at this hour, not on this day, then that's it. He and Seunghyun aren't meant to be and not just in the long run but ever again.   
  
_'YG Entertainment, Reception. Can I help you?'_  
  
The words make him sick, he can feel his mouth begin to water. He may actually throw up from the sound of someone's voice. Someone is there. This woman is there. Someone whose voice he doesn’t recognise. Someone he has never paid attention to or noticed in his day to day life. She's _there_. She has answered the call and she could have the answers to everything. She could _change_ everything.  
  
'It's almost eleven. What are you doing answering the phone at this hour?'  
  
He never expected anyone to be there, office hours ended hours ago. Last he knew, reception stopped taking calls at 6 and that was on a regular day. This was _Christmas_ for fucks sake. As she speaks, Jiyong realises he's disappointed. He didn't want an answer. He didn't want to have to go through with this. Ultimately, he didn't want to speak to Seunghyun. Not today, or tonight. Maybe not ever again.  
  
'What are you doing _calling_ at this hour?'  
  
‘Fair question,' he answers quietly.  
  
The woman explains that she volunteered to work Christmas. She's working a night shift and ' _anyway, two of the studio's are being used and there are people in the gym and who knows where else. Lots of people are still here, even at eleven on Christmas'_.  
  
Jiyong speaks to her for ten minutes about nothing in particular. He asks about her family and friends. _Why would you volunteer when you could be partying?_ He talks and talks and talks, stalling for time. He doesn't want to ask her this big thing. He doesn't think he has the nerve. He tries to rationalise hanging up, ending the conversation and forgetting all this. She won't have Seunghyun's number or the authority to give it to him. He'll just make a fool of himself by asking and then where will he be? Still on the floor of his childhood bedroom, still miserable, and embarrassed to boot. So, he just talks to her. He lets her talk and puts it off until the decision can't be put off any longer.  
  
'What do you need?' she asks. 'Why are you calling?'  
  
Why is he? What could having Seunghyun's number possibly achieve? His mother made sense in the kitchen but not here, two steps closer to his goal. It didn't make sense anymore to get Seunghyun's number. What will happen if he calls? What does he _want_ to happen? What does he think Seunghyun is going to say when he answers the phone? What can he _possibly_ say?  
  
Nothing he can say will make up for what he's done, and if he can't fix it, why bother? He can only make it worse. Jiyong knows that, rationally. If he goes down this route, if this girl somehow finds a way to get Seunghyun's number, there is no happy outcome. One way or another, the door will finally close on their relationship.   
  
Whatever happens, it will break him.  
  
'I was wondering if you could do me a favour?' he asks regardless. 'I'm not sure you can even help me but I've lost Seunghyun-hyung's phone number. Top-hyung --- his number in Japan. I was wondering if you could give it to me.'  
  
He makes the decision and his stomach turns. His fingers tingle with anxiety and anticipation and pre-emptive humiliation at the rejection he expects. But there isn't any. There's a brief pause and Jiyong closes his eyes. He waits for her answer, the one he expects. The negative answer.  
  
'His cell number or his home number?'  
  
Jiyong only barely holds back the desperate sound rising in his throat. Which one? Cell or home? He doesn't want to call Seunghyun when he's busy or with somebody else. The thought makes him ill.  
  
'Home, if that's possible’.  
  
'Sure, just give me a minute, I'll find it for you'.  
  
And that's all there is to it.  
  
He gives her a company-wide password to prove who he is and that's it. Simple. Private information handed over without a fuss because he remembered an arbitrary ten digit code that ended with KJY. Proof of life --- proof of Kwon Jiyong.  
  
Ten minutes later he's sitting there, face turned into the quilt over the end of the bed crying quietly into the fabric to muffle the sound.  
  
He has it.  
  
Seunghyun's phone number, his _home_ number --- a tangible connection to him --- he can ring this number and Seunghyun will hear it. He might even answer.

 

 

  
*  
  


 

An hour later, he calls.  
  
He spends an hour thinking about it, weighing up the pro's and cons, determined either way that nothing good will come from ringing him at all, but some part of him cries out to hear Seunghyun's voice. He has to know. Something, _anything._  
  
So he calls.  
  
And Seunghyun answers.  
  
Simple.  
  
After months of unanswered questions and heartache, in the space of one night he has managed to reach him. Like it's nothing. Like he was there all along.  
  
_'Mmmm?'_  
  
It's so familiar, this gutteral deep voice; the way Seunghyun always answers the phone, the way he has done for as long as Jiyong has known him. It makes his chest hurt to hear it. He doesn't know what to say, how to introduce himself, so he says something old and familiar. Something neutral, something safe.  
  
'Hyung?'  
  
He strains to hear sounds in the background on Seunghyun's end, friends or colleagues, music or a television but there's nothing. Seunghyun's voice came from a silent room, one that's probably empty, or so Jiyong hopes. He tries not to think about the possibility that he's in bed or that someone is beside him, silently waiting.  
  
The thought that at this very moment, someone might have a hand on him, on his back or on his leg, the way Jiyong used to when Seunghyun got a call late at night. There was always the chance it was bad news, so there was a habit between them to rest a hand somewhere, just in case. Pre-emptive support.  
  
Maybe Seunghyun has found a _new_ someone. Maybe they know to touch him during late night calls, without him having to mention it. Maybe they know him inside and out. Maybe they're soulmates.  
  
For all Jiyong's irrational thoughts, Seunghyun is silent. Jiyong wonders if he even remembers last Christmas, if he understands the significance of Jiyong calling on today of all days, or if he even cares. He wonders why Seunghyun is home on Christmas --- why it sounds like he's alone. If what happened to him the year before is happening to him again. If he's going through something --- Jiyong suddenly yearns to see him, to touch him, to know if he's _alright_ \---  
  
While he wishes, Seunghyun stays silent.  
  
Maybe he doesn't know what to say or how to apologise. Maybe he's wondering if he _should_ or what Jiyong expects him to say, and it's a fair question, one Jiyong doesn't have an answer for. He doesn't know what he wants Seunghyun to say, only _something._  
  
But something doesn't come.  
  
It never comes.  
  
Seunghyun answered the phone. He spoke moments ago but now that _Jiyong_ has spoken, now that he knows who is on the line, Seunghyun is silent. Jiyong can feel it from the first moments, the foreboding, the doom and gloom rising up inside him, smothering him from the inside.  
  
Seunghyun's not going to speak to him.  
  
He's not going to say hello, or offer an explanation. He's not going to say a word. He may even hang up before Jiyong can do it first. For all the possibilities Jiyong considered, this was beyond him, beyond what he thought Seunghyun was capable of. It’s unspeakably cruel.  
  
He imagined if he called, Seunghyun might explain himself and apologise maybe. He imagined the opposite too --- that he would avoid that entirely; be curt and end the conversation as soon as possible. He might never answer the phone --- but to answer and choose none of the above. For Seunghyun to answer and say _nothing?_  
  
Jiyong reels. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to put up walls. He tries to bolster himself against this, against what this is _doing_ to him, but he can't. It's too late. Somehow, he just knows. He knows what Seunghyun is doing, but he doesn't know why.  
  
'You're not going to talk to me?' Jiyong asks, broken.  
  
_Silence._  
  
His face crumples in pain and he pulls the phone from his ear so he can release a shaky exhale without Seunghyun hearing him. After that, something within him breaks. A flood-wall cracks and he speaks, a thousand words a minute. He speaks enough for the both of them.  
  
'Did you love me?' he asks, knowing full well Seunghyun won't say a word either way. 'All those times you said you did. I never knew you at all, did I?'  
  
And that's all Jiyong is capable of. Half sentences --- disjointed thoughts and feelings that blurt out because _he's there_ , and even if he won't talk, he can hear. The way Jiyong would periodically leave messages on Seunghyun's phone buried deep in his closet, he speaks to him now.  
  
He speaks to him like he isn't there. He says all the things he wished he could have said up to this point and the more he speaks, the better he feels, in a way. He is heart-broken and just _regular_ broken, reeling from the pain of Seunghyun's silence, but it is cathartic and even while speaking, Jiyong knows --- this is the end. This chapter in his life is over.  
  
_They're_ over, completely, irrevocably over.  
  
This breaks him. Maybe a part of him never imagined life post-Seunghyun, because they fit together so well. They had meant so much to each other for so long, they had seemed above it all. Like despite all the difficulties, they would overcome and their relationship would _last._  
  
Jiyong speaks to Seunghyun for twenty minutes. He asks questions with no answers. He wants desperately to tell Seunghyun all the pain he caused when he left. He wants to tell him that he almost died, that he drank himself unconscious and it was all his fault. He wants to know if Seunghyun would care, if after hearing that, he would still sit there in silence or if he'd say something like a human being with actual feelings and empathy and regret.  
  
Jiyong doesn't mention it. He doesn't want the answer.  
  
He wants to ask if Seunghyun ever felt the same; if he ever felt desperately alone or as if without Jiyong, he couldn't hold himself together. Did he ever feel that way? Did he miss him? Did he regret what he'd done?  
  
Jiyong speaks, broken thoughts and rhetorical questions until he grows tired. He wonders if Seunghyun is still there. He wonders if he was ever there at all, if he imagined his voice --- maybe he put the phone down and left. Maybe he's not listening anymore.  
  
'It’s all over,' Jiyong whispers. 'Big Bang too. You know that, don't you?'  
  
It surprises him. It startles him the second it comes out. A thought that's entirely _new_ \--- something he's never considered before, but now that it's out in the world, now that he's said it, he believes it. Even if Seunghyun came back, Big Bang working again as a cohesive unit isn't possible. Big Bang are finished. This thing he has poured his life into--- is gone.  
  
Their relationship had always been a risk but the group had been together for so long, it seemed worth it at the time. If something went wrong, Big Bang had persevered, outlasted and outshone any other group for so long, they would leave a legacy in their wake. Even disbanded, even broken, Big Bang had been a spark in a bleak universe.  
  
It was more than any of them could have asked for. Seungri had a career and businesses of his own --- he could make it without the group. He'd make it no matter what, he had the drive to succeed. He always would. Seungri would outlast them all.  
  
Youngbae could survive. He could do solo albums, even now, even older, when he came back from the army, he could do whatever he wanted. He could sing or dance or produce or write for other artists. He'd find a way.  
  
Daesung wanted to do musicals when he came back from the army, he'd mentioned it even before he left. He wanted to do something less glitzy, he didn't want to be famous as much as he wanted to sing.   
  
Jiyong didn't really care how Seunghyun would last without Big Bang. He could act if he wanted to or buck up and do a solo album, or just spend the rest of his life in isolation. It wasn't Jiyong's problem anymore. Seunghyun had made his choice.  
  
After a lengthy silence, Jiyong sighs quietly and whispers, 'okay'.  
  
_Okay, you win. You had the last word. You left and you're staying gone. I get it.  
_  
He tries to think of some way to end this. He doesn’t know how to let go of the last twenty minutes of pent up emotion and hurt and rage and disappointment. He thinks of keeping it simple; a quiet 'goodbye,' and nothing more. He thinks of taking a leaf out of Seunghyun's book and hanging up without saying anything at all. He runs through twenty different ways to end this, not just the conversation but their relationship and their friendship too. Some way of wrapping up ten years of memories.  
  
What he does say, comes naturally.  
  
He doesn't think of it beforehand, he just says the words as they come to him and it's not until the call is over, not until he has said these thirteen words, that he realises he means them.   
  
'I _love_ you, but wherever you are, I hope you stay there'.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

  
  
  
His legs hurt. For a while, that's all he can think about. They ache like a child with growing pains. It brings back memories of his childhood, of his sister with missing teeth and his parents tired faces. He would wake up sometimes from the pain in his legs. His mother would rub them until her arms grew sore and his father would run hot baths. His mother said the pain was his body catching up to him _._ He moved so much, dancing and climbing everything in sight, his body was simply trying to accommodate all the things he wanted to do. When his legs hurt, they were trying to grow faster. As he grew older, he didn't mind the pain. He didn't need the leg rubs or the hot baths anymore. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to be bigger, faster, better. Pain was progress.   
  
He wishes they were catching up now, trying to make him a better man, taller and stronger. Their only reason for growing now is to help him run faster and he can _do_ that. He has the desire to run far away, if he only knew where to go. Nowhere seems far enough.  
  
'I'm sorry,' Hyeong-bae says. He speaks in that deep guttural voice and Jiyong thinks he's heard enough deep voices for one lifetime. 'Are you going to say something? Don’t just sit there. Jesus! _'_  
  
_My right leg hurts more than the left._  
  
‘What do you want me to say?' Jiyong asks, eyes on his shoes. He feels like he's been punched in the stomach or received bad news. In a way, he's had both. He still feels residual fear.  
  
He tries to think back. He tries to place the moment he made his first mistake and all the succeeding mistakes after that one. He keeps coming back to the phone-call when Hyeong-bae first asked him if he wanted a coffee. Maybe that was it. He went for a coffee and that sparked it all. That started the chain of events that led him to this moment. Or maybe it was when he told Hyeong-bae his story, when he trusted him, when he exposed his vulnerability. Maybe Hyeong-bae mistook a kind of parental instinct or sense of responsibility for something else.   
  
Maybe it was more sinister than that _._ Maybe it happened when they fell asleep on the lounge together or one of the times Jiyong moved from the bathroom to the bedroom in only a towel. One of those things had done it, or the accumulation of many.   
  
' _Say_ something,' Hyeong-bae pleads. He is angry and desperate. His voice wavers like he's on the verge of another violent outburst maybe. Jiyong looks across at him and Hyeong-bae looks uncertain. The way he did earlier. His fists are clenching and unclenching. He is shifting his weight. He is reaching a point of no return. Unstable.  
  
Jiyong wants to stand up. He wants to physically shove Hyeong-bae out the door with his two hands but his body won't let him. He can't get up. He sinks back into the lounge. He rests his head on the cushions and looks ahead at the blank television screen across the room. He can see his own reflection. He looks calm but different. Not himself anymore. Hyeong-bae's actions have changed him somehow. They have ripped something right out of him. His naivety maybe.  
  
That, or it's fear.  
  
'Okay,' Jiyong says. 'Get out'.  
  
He can't bring himself to look at Hyeong-bae's face to see his reaction. He can't bring himself to look at him at all. He's terrified. Of what, he doesn't know.  
  
'Get _out,'_ he repeats. ‘Fuck off. Leave me alone. I don’t want you here. Get out’. He is quiet but resolute. Anger is slowly overcoming all the rest.  
  
‘I can’t just leave!'  
  
Jiyong bites the bullet and rolls his head so they're making eye-contact. Hyeong-bae, larger than life and irate by the door, himself limp on the lounge. He tries to sound as threatening as Hyeong-bae apparently can.  
  
'Get out of my apartment. If you're not gone in twenty seconds, you’ll regret it’.  
  
It doesn't matter that Hyeong-bae has the advantage in size and strength because Jiyong can feel the rage swell up inside him. He tries not to think about how helpless he was when Hyeong-bae did what he _did._ Jiyong’s anger is omnipresent now. If Hyeong-bae tries it again, he will give as good as he gets.  
  
Hyeong-bae's nostrils flare like he's trying to contain the bulk of his anger and seeing that makes Jiyong even more indignant. He pulls himself away from the back of the lounge and sits on the edge of the cushion.  
  
'What do _you_ have to be angry about? _You're_ the asshole! I'm the angry one, not _you_. You’re a joke’.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs but it's laced with vitriol and Jiyong can't understand _his_ anger or where it's coming from. Hyeong-bae bows forward and groans. Frustrated. He kicks a cabinet nearby and sends a photo frame and an ashtray hurtling to the floor. Jiyong hears glass shatter and that's all it takes. He’s had enough. His body propels itself from the lounge and he's at Hyeong-bae's side in two seconds flat. His fist connects with the side of his face before Hyeong-bae even realises he's there.   
  
Hyeong-bae stumbles back and hits the door, his hand reaching for his face, _stunned_. Jiyong can see blood seeping out from his nose. It doesn't look broken, but he wouldn't know either way. He doesn't know how to fight anyone, let alone someone Hyeong-bae’s size. Seunghyun taught him a few tips one night while they were drunk. Moves he had learned shooting his films. He got Jiyong in a few choice stances and told him where to hit and how hard. How to use his body to increase the force of each blow. For the first time ever purposely punching someone in the face, blood is as good as he could have hoped for.  
  
Jiyong wants this to be the end of it. He deserved that. Hyeong-bae _deserved_ to be hit in the face and probably more than that but if he just leaves now, it's over. This doesn’t have to go any further, but Hyeong-bae doesn’t leave.  
  
Instead, he grabs Jiyong by the collar of his shirt and pulls him around. He shoves him into the back of the door so hard that Jiyong is winded. He tries to keep the panic at bay. He tries to focus on his breathing and not on Hyeong-bae's face staring down into his own. Hyeong-bae is dripping blood onto his shirt and Jiyong wants to stop him. He wants to shove him away but he can't breathe, so he focuses on that instead.  
  
One, Two, Three, Four --- _How long can a person go without taking a breath?_ Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine. _Jesus Christ!_ Ten, Eleven, Twelve.  
  
A shaky breath edges out of his lungs and he's awash with relief. He has been winded before but never by somebody else, never by the sheer _strength_ of another human being. He's fallen off things and landed on his back, like Seunghyun's kitchen counter while trying to change a light-bulb. Seunghyun ran over in a panic and crouched beside him. Jiyong had to grab his hand to stop him from doing something stupid like ringing an ambulance.  
  
Jiyong wishes he was back there, that he had someone who loved him to hold his hand.   
  
Hyeong-bae is so close, fist clenched in his shirt. Jiyong _tries_ to look defiant and angry and he half succeeds but he knows there is fear in him too. He’s not a moron. The rational part of his brain knows Hyeong-bae isn't going to hurt him, not now that he _knows_ , but the irrational part of his brain is hard to quiet. He waits for Hyeong-bae to _do_ something, to hit him or shout in his face while the drops of blood hit the blue of Jiyong's shirt. _I’ll never be able to wear this again._ That makes him angry too.  
  
'What are you waiting for?'   
  
Hyeong-bae's grip on his shirt becomes tighter and Jiyong can feel his whole body tense. Time slows down, the calm before the storm, the receding waters before the tsunami. And then Hyeong-bae loosens his grip. No blow, no rage.  
  
Hyeong-bae's face buckles, his lip quivers like a child trying to stave off tears and then he fails at that too and cries. He blubbers like a child and rests his head on Jiyong's shoulder, blood still drip, dripping down into the blue of his shirt. Hyeong-bae cries, a grown man of 31 _cries_ into his shoulder and Jiyong feels the anger peter out of his body once again and the sadness wash in.  
  
Everything's ruined.

 

 

 

**EARLIER**  
  


  
  
After the call with Seunghyun, things changed. Hyeong-bae moved in at Jiyong's request. He didn't stay all the time, but he set up shop in the spare room and he was there three or four nights a week.  
  
When Jiyong came back from his parents, Hyeong-bae gave him space. He was there, but he wasn't there. Jiyong worked through the final blow on his own. His relationship with Seunghyun was over. The call sealed the deal. Before the call there was always the possibility of an explanation. Jiyong spent months unconsciously waiting for it. He needed to speak to Seunghyun to know there was nothing there to wait for.  
  
He could move on then, like every other heartbroken and jilted lover. He could eat himself stupid and watch dramas and listen to love songs or go the other way and sleep around, take up drinking again to distract himself until the pain went away. It didn't matter either way because the pain _would_ go away, sooner or later. It was already dissipating, slowly.  
  
Hyeong-bae suggested he take the road in between and go to _work_.  
  
'I don't presume to know who you were,' he said tentatively, 'before this girl stomped on your heart, because it's plain to see you're different now to whatever you were before. But you seem like the kind of guy who lives to work’.  
  
Hyeong-bae was succinct. He was young by nature. Not childish but _simple_ and with his years came experience and well-intentioned advice. He had a brusque wisdom and a way of making Jiyong see the obvious when he couldn't see it himself. Hyeong-bae swayed him to work and Jiyong worked.  
  
It wasn't as gentle as persuasive encouragement. It was a physical push in true Hyeong-bae style. Jiyong was forcibly shoved into the home studio-cum-junk room and trapped in there. Hyeong-bae held the door shut like a true friend.  
  
Come his fourth imprisonment, Jiyong relented. He switched on his laptop and clicked around. He listened to bits and pieces of tracks from months earlier and he _remembered._ He didn't throw himself back into work, it wasn't so simple, but as he sat at his old table, he _missed_ it. He missed the studios at YG. He missed recording, writing, _scrutinising._ He missed the tiredness that _came_ from work. It was different to the tiredness he felt now. He slept sounder.  
  
Hyeong-bae encouraged him without treating him like a child, without coddling him or doting on him when he accomplished something. He pushed him around and seemed to know when it was necessary; what Jiyong would respond to and when. He treated him like they were on equal footing too and that made all the difference.   
  
Hyeong-bae did nothing focussed with his days. He seemed to move around without ever really going anywhere. He watched television and films and he read books and magazines, he went to the gym and on long walks. No part of him thought what Jiyong did was more important or more impressive than what he did himself, only different.   
  
They were equal, for the first time in Jiyong's life there was no subtle power-play or competition. There was symbiosis. Hyeong-bae didn't want to know Jiyong's friends, he didn't want a high-profile life. He didn't want connections; he wanted a comfortable bed and good food. He was grounded and disinterested in all the parts of Jiyong that made him likeable to others.  
  
Hyeong-bae was valuable and he changed him.  
  
A month after _'the call,'_ Jiyong was working again. His music was off and his lyrics were childish but he was taking the first steps. He was on the road to recovery. He wanted his old life back. He began to imagine the day he could go to work instead of emailing or phoning in to show he was alive. He could feel his favourite chair in the studio, see the Janet Jackson print framed on the wall. He could see his feet on the desk, fingers tapping against his thigh. He could almost _taste_ it.  
  
He missed the whole team. He missed Yang more than anyone. His father away from home; Jiyong missed his advice. He missed his sincerity. He missed a lot of people.  
  
Seeing old friends once a fortnight didn't satisfy him anymore. Instead of going out to show people he was fine when he wasn't, he went out because he wanted to. He missed people. He missed their personalities and their stories. He wanted to know what people had done with their lives in the five months he'd been away. He still didn't drink but he was finding ways to get by without it.  
  
One night, he was in a smaller group --- only five or six of them together. Just the boys. Xin was there with mutual friends. They rented a room. Hours past the official line of 'shirking inhibitions' and being 'unusually honest,' one of the B-team friends slung an arm around his shoulder. Breath reeking of whiskey, he said, _'It's good to see you. man. I thought your breakdown was never gonna end'._  
  
'I didn't have a break-down. I've been _busy_ '.  
  
B-team laughed and wiped his nose on Jiyong's shoulder. He had so much hairspray in his hair, Jiyong could have snapped it off in pieces. 'Yeah you did. You had a nervous break-down and we _all_ know you did and it's okay. The price of being a superstar, right?'  
  
Jiyong left shortly after. The thought of people in the B-squad --- _the back-up friends_ , thinking he had a nervous break-down upset him. B-team with the _hair-spray_ and the _loan repayments_ and the wheezing laugh could comment on _Jiyong's_ life from a place of togetherness. Jiyong, who had everything and nothing. He stood at the base of the stairs outside, on the street facing a back-alley and lit up a cigarette. He tried to calm his nerves. Xin followed minutes later, drunk but straddling the line of sober. His pants fluoresced in the dark.  
  
Jiyong almost shrieked, 'Did you hear that? A nervous break-down! You guys don't think I had a nervous breakdown do you? I was busy! You _know_ I was busy?'  
  
He sounded preening and desperate, even to himself. Xin took the cigarette from his fingers, and stood on the stairs above him. He leaned over the railing to smoke.  
  
'You weren't busy,' Xin said. 'We don't care if you went off the rails. It was bound to happen sooner or later'.  
  
Jiyong laughed caustically, snatched the cigarette back from Xin's fingers, put it between his own lips and left after a quiet, 'Fuck _off,_ ' with his finger in Xin's face.   
  
He got back to the apartment in the early hours and started raving. He paced the length of Hyeong-bae's bed while he lay there, tired, wishing Jiyong would disappear. Hyeong-bae's advice wasn't long coming or gentle.  
  
'You're saying your friends know you had a melt-down and they don't give a shit. They're telling you it's fine, and you're angry? What do you _want_ people to say to you? Jesus _Christ._ In a way, they're supporting you so just _accept_ it and move on. Let people think you had a breakdown, who fucking cares? Deal with it and go back to work. Your friends are happy to see you, they're not laughing behind closed doors because you disappeared for a while. Harden the fuck up'.  
  
Jiyong told Hyeong-bae to fuck himself the way he told Xin. He slammed the door so hard, the resulting clap hurt his eardrums. It took a few days but he apologised _eventually_ , to Hyeong-bae first and then Xin. He couldn't help his anger. He had always been G-Dragon. He was an example. A nervous break-down was humiliating. It made him weak.   
  
'Not weak, you moron. _Normal._ You're a normal fucking guy, that's what they think. Have you always put yourself on such a pedestal? You can't do normal things or have normal people problems? Being a singer or a rapper, that's just a job. Sure, you get all this money and you live in this fancy apartment and strangers _love_ you but it's just a _job_. It doesn't shield you from the woes of normal folk. People have meltdowns. _Everyone_ does'.   
  
That was how Hyeong-bae dealt with him and his problems. Where old-Jiyong would have roiled against it, new-Jiyong savoured it. He was comforted by the honesty. It kept him level.  
  
That was only _one_ in a series of heated tantrums and as the weeks wore on, Hyeong-bae's home brand therapy lost its zeal.   
  
'I don't even know _how_ to fix you any more,' he said one day. 'You need to get laid. You've got some frustration you need to work out'.  
  
Thus sparked the next stage of break-up recovery. Aka _'Mission not-entirely-impossible'._

  
  
  
  
* * *  
  


  
The first girl was twenty-three. She had auburn hair and a laugh like a cartoon animal. She talked about herself the way professors gave lectures. She was born in Busan, her father worked on a ship and she had Russian neighbours. She played the flute and the trumpet and did ballet until she was eight. She was allergic to almonds and penicillin. Her favourite colour was blue and her second favourite, red. Her parents divorced when she was fifteen. She started modelling at seventeen and moved to Seoul at twenty-one.  
  
She was a friend of a friend.  
  
At the end of their date, Jiyong realised he knew more fruitless information about her than he did the friend who introduced them. Her name was Hun-young and she had a lot to say about nothing and little to say about anything else.  
  
Baesuk was her favourite dessert.  
  
The total sum of all this information didn't seem a solid enough basis on which to start a relationship. Still, she liked him. She said the words 'G-Dragon,' 6.5 times, the last time – a scurried 'Drag--' was cut off by a waiter's gentle intercession, so more than liking him, she liked his persona.  
  
She laid her hands on his whenever he left them on the table. Eventually, he kept them in his lap. She laughed at jokes that weren't funny, including a story he made up on the spot to test her that wasn't a joke at all. She laughed at that too.  
  
He didn’t really talk about himself. He didn't see how this girl could like him the way she pretended to. She didn't _know_ him. She knew nothing _about_ him and that depressed him. He felt she wouldn't listen even if he did open up. She would only hear what she wanted to.  
  
The way she seemed to melt into his side as they left the restaurant, the way she laughed and touched and prodded him, and made little quips like they were familiar. It made him feel like a handbag, an accessory or a piece of meat.  
  
G-Dragon for sale, ₩4000 a pound. Contact Kwon Jiyong for purchase.  
  
He put her in a taxi and said he'd call.

  
  
  
  
*  
  


 

The second girl was three years older than him. She had a part between her two front teeth that mesmerised him. He'd seen models with the same and something about it attracted him. More so in this girl, because she hadn't had it fixed. As he aged, the landscape of his friends began to subtly change --- the same people with different faces. Everyone slowly began to fix their imperfections and while he had to admit, sometimes for the better, sometimes he missed the quirks in their faces. Eventually, surgery created a uniformity. Everyone started to look similar.  
  
The girl had a Hermes bracelet and a Chanel bag. She could afford surgery but hadn't had it. He wondered if their roles were reversed, if he'd never had his teeth fixed, she'd be applauding his decision to abstain, if she'd find character in his crooked teeth.   
  
Probably not.  
  
The second girl didn't laugh.  
  
For all the allure in her parted teeth, she smiled a lot but didn't laugh and that created a weird vacuum in the room. It seemed to suck him dry until she sensed it wasn't working out and suggested they part ways early. She was nice but they didn't understand each-other.   
  
She made him miss the fake laughter of the first girl.  


  
  
  
*

  
  
  
The third girl was an idol. Two years younger, thrust upon him at the suggestion of a mutual friend. He had nothing to lose by saying yes. Maybe dating a celebrity was what he needed. Mutual secret keeping and sneaking around. They could barely spend an hour together at a time. In a way, that was perfect. He needed his space, but to move forward as well. Another celebrity was a logical solution.  
  
She was slim and beautiful, though he doubted naturally. Her group was a year old. They were about to have a comeback. He'd heard their name but little else. Friends assured him they were popular. He didn't really care.  
  
She asked him questions about his life, a _lot_ of questions …  
  
'Where were you born?'  
'Brothers and sisters?'  
'Are you working on anything right now?'  
  
Every so often she'd throw a curve ball with something like, 'Skiing or hiking?' 'Dogs vs Cats?' 'Are you more terrified of spiders or serial killers?'  
  
She was funny but she had the same problem as the first girl in reverse. She didn't talk about herself at all. He realised halfway through the date, she was doing all the asking and he all the answering. He was basically on a date with himself. He managed for the final hour to turn things around, he asked her about her life but as she spoke, he felt his mind wander and as she smiled and laughed, he found he did it reflexively.  
  
Logic hadn't prevailed. She was beautiful and nice and funny and it would be so _so_ easy, but he wasn't into her. He didn't care. He had no desire to take her home, no desire to date her, no desire even to fuck her.  
  
He did _feel_ the urge to date again. It was a quiet voice in the back of his head, but it was there. He was lonely. He wanted someone to fall asleep with, someone to hold, someone to lay around with and go _out_ with. He wanted someone who'd _be_ there when he needed them.  
  
Seunghyun had been easy, but everyone else? He forgot the logistics of getting together. You forget how hard it really is, how _long_ it really takes to be happy. To get comfortable.  
  
Even if he found a girl on these dates, it would be months before they reached that stage, the one he wanted and needed _now_. Being an idol made things difficult. He had to be cautious, he couldn't just invite a girl in. He couldn't sleep with strangers unless he knew people who knew them or was certain they wouldn't tell or thought they could be bought off if the night went badly.  
  
It was hard.  
  
If he found a _celebrity_ , it would still be months, both hounded every second of the day by watchful eyes, the need for discretion would eat away at him. Having to drive the long ways and through back alleys to make sure he wasn't being followed. Having to meet in car-parks and places so out of the way, simply getting together would become a chore.  
  
It was easier when he was younger. He didn't know what a relief it had been to find Seunghyun and to avoid all that.  
  
The thought of dating tired him out. He wanted the end reward but didn't have the energy to get there. He lamented to Hyeong-bae after every failed date and got back just enough sympathy to erase all the awkwardness and hurt feelings and pick himself up for the next one. He didn't like the dates, but he was _lonely._ He had a loneliness neither Hyeong-bae or his other friends could fix.   
  
So, he lined up more and more dates. He stuck with working in the home studio, made vague attempts to exercise once a week. He sucked it all up and pushed forward.   
  
Things got better by degrees.   
  
Eventually, one of the dates would pay off and everything else would follow.

 

  
  
*

 

 

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth date, Hyeong-bae stopped coming around. Jiyong went a week without seeing him or hearing from him and rather than think logically, _'Maybe he's busy,'_ his mind indulged in moods that lead to, ' _maybe he's dead'._ Hyeong-bae lived in an apartment unsafe for the most careful of people and careful he wasn't _._ He was large and ungainly. If there was something to trip over, run into or get hit with, he'd find it. Maybe he fell down the stairs or suffocated with his head inside a grocery bag. Jiyong didn't hold a lot of weight in the latter being the reason for unanswered calls, but it didn't hurt to prepare for the worst.  
  
He couldn't help it. He had an in-built fear of unreturned calls and silence in his apartment. He needed his texts to be answered. He needed to know where people _were_. He needed security. He often went two or three days without hearing from Hyeong-bae, but not a whole week. There was somehow an ocean of distance between three days and seven. An impasse. Seven days was the limit, unequivocally, the maximum amount of time Jiyong could remain alone.   
  
So, after the twentieth text unreturned, he made the decision. He was going over there and god forbid if Hyeong-bae was sitting there watching tv. You don't throw your friend into the dating pool and fuck off, assuming one of the women chosen will take up the mantle and relieve you of your duty. It doesn't work like that.  
  
So, Jiyong went over there, disgruntled and lonely. He knocked on the door equally worried and annoyed. Perhaps Hyeong-bae had mob trouble. Maybe he'd lost his thumbs to repay a debt and bled out on the bathroom floor. Maybe he had a girlfriend? Maybe he'd persuaded Jiyong to get a new girl because he had one himself and didn't have time for him anymore. The thought of that seemed worse than the missing-thumbs.  
  
Hyeong-bae wasn't dead _or_ missing digits, and so far as Jiyong could tell he was still a bachelor if the stale smell from inside was anything to go by. That and the silence when he opened the door. Jiyong felt awash with relief when he saw Hyeong-bae's face and tried to conceal it. The sheer readjustment of stress, knowing he was okay, that he was still _there._  
  
Hyeong-bae retreated inside the apartment and Jiyong followed. They didn't go far. Hyeong-bae stood a few feet inside. He didn't go further in. He didn't offer a chance for Jiyong to do the same. It was as clear a way of saying, ' _You're not staying,'_ as the words themselves could have been. It made Jiyong feel vaguely ill.  
  
He tried to small talk for a while before realising this was _a thing_. Hyeong-bae wasn't in a bad mood, this involved him somehow. This was about _him_ , though he didn't know why or how. Hyeong-bae was mad at him.  
  
'Did I do something?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Why are you avoiding me?'  
  
'It's nothing. I've been busy'  
  
'Doing what?'  
  
'Looking for a job'.  
  
'What for? You don't _need_ a job!'  
  
'If I ever want to move out of this shit-hole, I need a job'.  
  
'But you practically live with _me_ , why the sudden urge to move?'  
  
It was as curt a conversation as they'd ever had and the sheer dissociation of it made Jiyong's stomach ache. It was like a dream. He had no strong emotions, just a distance from their talk --- from the emotions he knew he'd feel later. He was there but he wasn't there.   
  
You didn't get this close to somebody to have them suddenly withdraw without warning. Jiyong told himself so while Hyeong-bae explained himself, or _tried_ to, or evaded the subject _entirely_ but that wasn't true, was it, because Seunghyun had done that.  
  
Seunghyun withdrew the way Hyeong-bae was withdrawing and the sheer idea of it happening again froze Jiyong entirely. The prospect of being alone again broke him. Hyeong-bae wasn't unsympathetic and perhaps that made it worse. He adopted a softer face, spoke a little slower, almost smiled but not quite.  
  
'Look, I just need to be alone for a while. Do you understand? I need to work some stuff out,' and as an addendum, 'you're going to be fine'.  
  
He tried to reiterate that what he was doing had nothing to do with him. He had some troubles of his own that needed to be dealt with. Jiyong had to understand, _'This isn't what your girl did to you, okay? I'm not doing that. I just need some time to work some stuff out, okay? Just ---'_  
  
Give him time.  
  
Time meant nothing, time was everything. It was a week and it was forty years.

 

 

 

*  


  
  
Twelve dates in a month.  
  
When Hyeong-bae withdrew, Jiyong felt the path to his old life begin to veer off in the wrong direction. He didn't realise what a stabilising force Hyeong-bae had been until he wasn't there any longer. He felt less purpose, less motivation, less hope, less excitement, less _happiness._  
  
Things felt dire.  
  
So, he employed the aid of Xin and even tentatively asked Seungri if he knew any girls who might want to go _out_ with him. If he could just find somebody who would _stay_ with him, for just long enough ---  
  
He sat on the floor of his bedroom, with Gaho's face over his thigh and rifled through scraps of paper with names and numbers and key facts, like he was sorting through job applications. In a way, that's what it was. He lined up seven dates, two a week for a month. He tried to choose girls who wouldn't know each-other or frequent the same circles. He didn't need the world knowing he was on a dating-spree.  
  
One, two, three, four, five through eleven. These dates were pointless. He set up another and another and they all went a similar way. It was theatre. Play acting without reward or recognition. The girls liked him and he didn't like them back. He wanted companionship but he didn't want theirs. At the end of it all, he felt desperate and jaded.   
  
He remembered the girls by their initial scraps of paper and little else. After a night or day with each girl all he could remember was cut down to the most basic information. Name, Age, Number, Miscellaneous. He had one date left, one last chance to find someone before he went off the rails again.

 

  
  
  
*  


 

 

A fortnight after _'I need some space,'_ Hyeong-bae shows up on Jiyong's doorstep.  
  
It's date night.  
  
Euna, black hair, freelance design work, likes 90's American hip-hop. Jiyong goes over what he knows about her in his mind. They've texted a few times and she seems nice and funny. This date has to work out. She _has_ to like him. They _have_ to find common ground. She _has_ to want to see him again. Even if he feels nothing, he'll fake it. He's lonely. He needs support. He's meeting her at Teddy's café. It’s a safe place to go. There are back-exits and a private room. Neutral territory.  
  
He flings half his wardrobe into the hallway to find the perfect outfit, the perfect pants, the perfect shirt. He has to look classy and handsome without being obvious. Casual that's not casual, the way people spend twenty minutes doing their hair to make it messy. It's all calculated.   
  
The clothes are one thing, his hair is another. It's a fucking disaster; something to do with him not giving a shit about it for months on end. It's too long. So long he can tie it up the way he did when he was younger. It makes his face look fat and it ages him.  
  
Hyeong-bae knocks on the door as Jiyong's reaching for the scissors. When he opens the door, Hyeong-bae looks different. Tired, older, unhappy. Jiyong lets him in.  
  
Since the _I need some space_ talk, Jiyong tried not to think about all the reasons for that. He wanted to take Hyeong-bae at face value. He wanted to believe ' _I need some space,_ ' wasn't about him but something personal instead, but he couldn't. After Seunghyun, it was too much of a coincidence to believe it wasn't him --- that it wasn't a character flaw he had that drove people away.  
  
Seeing Hyeong-bae sink down onto the couch the way he used to, Jiyong entertains for the first time, the possibility he was being honest. Maybe he really _was_ dealing with something personal, something that had nothing to do with him, because whatever it was, Hyeong-bae looks like he's lost the fight. Whatever the problem was, he looks beaten down by it.  
  
Jiyong feels bad for him and simultaneously relieved and grateful that he's back; that he didn't leave and never come back.  
  
He missed him.  
  
Hyeong-bae flops down on the couch and turns around, with his arm on the back of the faded leather and asks, 'Going somewhere?'  
  
'On a date,' Jiyong answers. 'Date one thousand’.  
  
Hyeong-bae's eyebrows rise, though he looks tired. 'Wow, you've been busy this month'.  
  
'I get around,' Jiyong answers. 'How’s the job hunt going?'  
  
'Poorly'.  
  
'Sorry'.  
  
They don't really talk after that. Jiyong doesn't know how to broach the topic of whether or not Hyeong-bae is alright. He came over for a reason. Maybe he wants to talk, maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants to sit around. Maybe he wants company. Maybe. Maybe. _Maybe._ Life is just a multitude of maybe's.  
  
Jiyong gets ready around him. He tries on shirt after shirt, pants and more pants. He even tries on a pair of shorts before realising what a fucking mistake that would be. Eventually he pulls together an outfit. Jeans and a blue oversized cotton-shirt, simple but put-together.  
  
Hyeong-bae watches him silently from the lounge as he runs from one corner of the apartment to the other trying to find a hat that can hide the monstrosity that is his hair. Jiyong is waiting for him to say something, to indicate he wants to talk or needs support or someone to talk to, but he does nothing. He just sits there, watching.  
  
A beanie seems to appear at his most desperate time of need and Jiyong slides it over unruly hair and steps back to appraise his outfit. It's not his best but he looks okay. He looks put together without being overdone.  
  
And then that's it, he's got to go --- he's already running late but Hyeong-bae is still sat there, silently. Jiyong doesn't know what to say or do, torn between making things okay between them and going out.   
  
He needs Hyeong-bae. He owes him. He's so glad to see him again, and he wishes it were another day, another time so he could sit down and talk with him and make things right, but he can't. Because on the other hand, there's Euna and as distant as the chance is, maybe they'll hit it off. As much as Jiyong needs Hyeong-bae, he needs a girlfriend too. He needs someone to fall in love with and someone who'll love him back. He has to _go._  
  
He looks at Hyeong-bae and wonders how he can excuse himself.  
  
'I have to go. I can't cancel this date. It's important that I go --- I mean, do you _need_ something? Do you need to talk? Will you wait for me? I won't be that long, just a few hours. I'll come back and we can talk or …'  
  
Hyeong-bae cuts him off with a curt, 'Go. It's fine,' in a tone that says it _isn't_ fine and Jiyong is torn further. He wavers, half-way to the door.  
  
'I _need_ this,' Jiyong says in a low voice. 'This girl could be it. If I cancel, she might not want to see me again. I didn't know you were coming over, I had no way of knowing---'  
  
He tries to explain what he feels Hyeong-bae should already know. How vital this is. How important it is that he finds somebody. How incapable he is of being alone.  
  
Hyeong-bae cuts him off again, sarcastic.  
  
'I get it, Jiyong. It's not like I've done anything for _you_ recently'.  
  
That's a voice he's never used before. One that's petulant and bitter. To bring it up that way, now, like he's _indebted_ to him, is a low blow. It's unnecessary. After that, everything seems to happen all at once.  
  
Jiyong makes it all the way to the front door before he is stopped by an apologetic voice.  
  
'Hey, _wait---_ '  
  
Hyeong-bae darts around the base of the lounge and almost jogs the three metres to the door. Jiyong waits, poised, his fingers on the door-handle.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
Hyeong-bae shoots him a look that says, _'hear me out,'_ and Jiyong wants to, but he's angry --- not just at Hyeong-bae for his attitude, but with himself for _being_ indebted. Hyeong-bae didn't speak for the hour he was sitting there. He didn't say anything. Hyeong-bae let him get dressed, knowing all the while he was going out and he didn't _say_ anything.  
  
'Look,' Jiyong says, before Hyeong-bae can say a word. 'I know I owe you, alright? I _know_ that. Don't talk to me in that _voice,_ as if I live in a fantasy world unaware of what you've done for me. I _know_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves so they're facing one another. 'I didn't say otherwise'.  
  
'No, but you have an _attitude_ and I _get_ that I owe you and you might need me right now, but I have needs as well! You left, remember? You fucked off for weeks and I didn't think you were coming back, so sorry if I had plans before you decided to waltz in here and be an _asshole!_ '  
  
'Don't go out with this girl tonight,' Hyeong-bae says.  
  
Jiyong sighs and raises his arms, exasperated.  
  
'I've been getting ready for an _hour_. You sat there and you watched me and you said _nothing_. You think now, on my way out, is a good time for whatever this is?'  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs in a way that's feigning apology but he doesn't care. Jiyong swallows down the irritation and tries to sound more adult.  
  
'I already told you, I have to go out. I'll be back in a few hours okay? Just _wait_ for me'.  
  
As guilty as he feels, he pulls the door open without waiting for an answer. What he expects next is a tense drive to Teddy's club and a guilt laden date with this girl he's pinned all his hopes and dreams on; already sullied by _this_ conversation --- by the guilt he'll feel knowing Hyeong-bae is in his apartment, in need of a friend who went on a date instead of postponing it.   
  
He doesn't _get_ that.  
  
What he gets is a rough grip around his arm as Hyeong-bae forcibly pulls him back inside. Jiyong is so startled, he trips and almost falls. It takes him a moment to realise what's happened but as Hyeong-bae shuts the door and leans his back against it, with his arms folded, Jiyong starts in a small way, to worry.  
  
Hyeong-bae breaks the stunned silence.   
  
'We need to talk. _Now._ Not later, not after a date, _right now_ '.  
  
Jiyong takes a step back and folds his arms over his chest too. He speaks in a quiet but resolute voice.   
  
'Well you know what? Grabbing me is not how you get that. This isn't _happening_ right now’.  
  
'It _has_ to,' Hyeong-bae answers, in that brusque way Jiyong's used to hearing him speak, but subtly different. His voice is laced with something, _animosity_ and urgency and it makes the hairs on Jiyong's arms stand up.

'Let me pass'.  
  
Hyeong-bae shakes his head and that subtle feeling of animosity grows a little more obvious. It puts Jiyong on edge. He backs down almost immediately, there's just a feeling in his gut warning him. _Imminent danger._  
  
'Fine,' Jiyong answers angrily. 'You want to talk, let's talk! Go ahead! Unburden yourself!'  
  
Hyeong-bae nods. He exhales deep from the nose and slouches as if getting his words together. He takes longer than Jiyong can bear.  
  
'Is this about your vacation from me? What you've been doing for the last three weeks? The 'space' you needed? What's going on?’  
  
As he asks the questions, he begins to feel guilty and a little more sorry for Hyeong-bae, a little more embarrassed by his own unwillingness to stay and listen to his problems. He could have postponed the date, or at the very least tried to. There were always more girls but Hyeong-bae was his _friend._ He should have stayed and listened when he asked him to. His desperation clouded his judgement. It got the better of him. For Hyeong-bae to pull these dick moves --- his problem must be serious. He'll txt Euna. He'll try to reschedule ---  
  
Jiyong lets go of his tension and he points behind him to the lounge. 'Want to sit down?'  
  
He expects Hyeong-bae to sheepishly walk to the lounge the way he would have before, but he doesn't. Instead, his fists clench and unclench and he _shouts_ at him _. 'No!'_ before stopping himself, caught by the violence in his own voice.  
  
The animosity in his voice startles Jiyong too.  
  
Hyeong-bae is angry, it's all over his face, in the tension of his body, in the tone of his voice. It's in his eyes; Like flicking a switch – and Jiyong's never seen him angry before. Irritated, yes, but not _angry._  
  
He takes a careful step back.  
  
'How many dates have you gone on this month?' Hyeong-bae asks, his voice altered.  
  
'I don't know?' Jiyong answers. 'Ten? Why? What's wrong with you?'  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs and lifts off from the door and Jiyong has to stop himself from taking another step back.  
  
'I don't know what’s wrong with me,' Hyeong-bae says. 'But it’s definitely _something'._  
  
Hyeong-bae moves away from the door, slowly by degrees, and Jiyong watches from the corner of his eye.   
  
'I've been thinking and I've _trie_ d--- I've _really_ tried ----,' Hyeong-bae searches desperately for words that don't come. He is still moving from the door, following the wall around the room. Jiyong can't explain it, but there is something about him now that seems suddenly unstable. Not just angry but not in control of himself. Teetering on a knife edge. Then, Hyeong-bae starts raving.  
  
He doesn't complete any of his sentences. He goes off on tangents. He says a lot about his family, things that don't make any sense. For a while he seems to talk about his ex and his father too but Jiyong isn't listening, he is too busy waiting for the right moment to reach the door, to get the fuck out of there and call the police or whoever you ring when someone's lost their mind because Hyeong-bae is raving like a full-blown lunatic. What _happened_ to him? Five minutes ago he was fine, moody but _fine._  
  
Hyeong-bae's mood changes sporadically while he speaks, sometimes he seems like his old self. He is coherent and looks at Jiyong with kind eyes and then sad eyes and Jiyong wants to believe he's going through something terrible, that he is just trying to make sense of it all --- but he can't help being scared _._  
  
For all the moments he seems gentle and ordinary, Hyeong-bae has as many moments of anger. Bursts of _rage_ that seem to overwhelm him. His fists clench so tightly his hands tremor. Even if he's not _crazy_ , Jiyong wants to leave. He feels sick to his stomach from the uncertainty of what will happen next. He hears things about himself in the raving and he _tries_ to listen. He tries to follow Hyeong-bae's words and train of thought ---  
  
'--- and _you,_ you don't care. You don't even _know_ and I _hate_ you for it. I hate myself and I hate _you_ and I don't know---‘  
  
And that seals the deal.  
  
Gaho is between them now, beginning to omit a low growl and if Jiyong wasn't worried already, that would have done it. Gaho wouldn't make that sound unless he thought he was in danger. The hairs on his back are beginning to stand up. Jiyong has never, in his whole life, seen Gaho do that.  
  
Jiyong whispers his name under his breath. He tries to get him to come closer because if he's going to run out of this apartment, he's taking Gaho with him. You don't leave a psycho alone with your dog.  
  
Gaho lumbers to Jiyong's side and he panics because Gaho is slow, he's too old, there's just no way he can keep up, no way he can move fast enough or do exactly what Jiyong needs him to do at the right moment. But a window of opportunity opens and he thinks, 'I have to _try_ '.   
  
He waits maybe twenty seconds, then Hyeong-bae is far enough away from the door that Jiyong thinks they can make it. He snaps his fingers by his side and when Gaho looks up at him, Jiyong nods to the door, he crouches down a little, the way he does when they're playing, and Gaho crouches down too, the way he does when he's about to run and fetch.  
  
Jiyong waits and when Hyeong-bae turns his back, Jiyong _runs._  
  
The door flies open and he makes it out into the hall, Gaho following at his heels, but slowly --- _too slow_ and as Gaho makes it out into the open, Hyeong-bae does too. He grabs Jiyong by the arm and then around the waist and Jiyong wants to shout but nothing comes out, he just inhales deeply and releases a quiet sound of despair.  
  
Gaho goes off the rails. He barks so loudly the floors above and below have to know _something's_ wrong because Gaho doesn't bark inside the apartment. He just _doesn't._  
  
Before Jiyong can make a new plan or think what to do, Hyeong-bae has lifted him off the ground and pulled him inside like a rag-doll, shutting the door behind them with Gaho trapped on the outside, barking and scratching at the door, trying to follow.  
  
Hyeong-bae pushes Jiyong against the wall, in the crevice between it and the door and Jiyong is so scared, he loses it. He starts pleading in a barely-there voice, _'Fuck, I'm sorry, whatever I did to you, please. Whatever is going on, whatever this is, whatever happened, we can talk about it. It's going be okay ---'_  
  
Then Hyeong-bae makes a sound and cups Jiyong's face with both hands, both large oppressive sweaty hands and he answers him in a similar tone that sounds almost as desperate and almost as scared.  
  
‘I'm not going to hurt you, this wasn't --- I just --- I wanted to, I didn't know how to ---'  
  
And then he does it.  
  
With a tear rolling down his cheek like a six year old on the first day of school, Jiyong freezes as Hyeong-bae's lips crash into his own. Hyeong-bae kisses him or _tries_ to but he's shaking too badly and Jiyong is too, but his thumb brushes over Jiyong's jaw and the kiss is soft, like he wants it to last.  
  
When he pulls back, he is shaking so badly that Jiyong can feel it where they're connected and Hyeong-bae is sniffing, with tears streaming down his face.   
  
'I didn't want to scare you. I just wanted to talk to you, I just wanted --- I have --- I mean --- Jiyong, I --- I don't understand and I just wanted to --- I don't want to ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae totally breaks down and Jiyong understands, to some extent, what is happening to him.  
  
He _likes_ him.  
  
This is some kind of macho man straight guy sexuality crisis. He _likes_ him or something. He has some kind of naïve crush and he's embarrassed, it makes him _angry._ His crazy ranting – he was trying to _explain_. He was trying to make sense of it.  
  
It doesn't make Jiyong feel any better. It doesn't stop the pain in his chest or the fear in his gut or erase the tears or quieten Gaho who's barks are coming louder and louder through the door.  
  
Jiyong tries to calm himself. He tries to think rationally.  
  
It takes time.  
  
Eventually he lays his hands tentatively over Hyeong-bae's and says, 'Let Gaho inside,' though it takes two goes for the words to come out, and when they do, they're broken and quiet. 'Someone is going to come if he doesn't stop ---'  
  
And Hyeong-bae nods, like Jiyong is making a world of sense, like Jiyong is the parent and he's the child who needs guidance and reassurance. He looks broken.  
  
Hyeong-bae opens the door and the second it opens, Gaho latches onto his leg and bites him through his jeans. Jiyong lets it last a moment longer than he should before grabbing his collar and pulling him back.  
  
It takes Gaho _minutes_ to calm down, and while he sits with Gaho as far from Hyeong-bae and his bleeding leg as possible, Jiyong quietly breaks down. He silently cries into Gaho's neck while trying to reassure him.  
  
_‘Good boy. You did good'._  
  
The stress and the adrenaline --- Jiyong cries from sheer relief and latent fear and as he cries, the energy seems to leave his body. He barely makes it to the lounge.  
  
_His legs begin to ache._  
  
After that, there's a calm. A silence while Jiyong tries to understand what's happened. That Hyeong-bae has disappeared for a month and come back with this. With feelings. Or something, god knows what--- just feelings.  
  
Hyeong-bae kicks a cabinet and a photograph of Jiyong's grandmother is knocked to the floor. The glass in the frame cracks.  
  
Jiyong punches him and it's cathartic to see blood, though his hand suffers for it.  
  
Hyeong-bae cries into his shoulder, blood dripping from his nose onto Jiyong's shirt.  
  
Jiyong is so tired from the experience, so devoid of energy and feelings, when he eventually pushes Hyeong-bae off and tells him to leave for the hundredth time, he barely flinches when Hyeong-bae's fist connects with the wall beside his head.   
  
Hyeong-bae starts raving again and Jiyong tells him in slow, clear words, _'Get out'._  
  
Eventually, he does.

 

 

  
* * *  


 

  
  
'What are you _doing_ here?'  
  
Hyeong-bae is at the door with a stack of empty bags and he doesn't _need_ to answer because Jiyong can see what he's there for.  
  
'I'm getting my stuff, unless you planned on keeping it?'  
  
Jiyong swings the door open and steps aside.  
  
They haven't spoken in three weeks. Not since what Jiyong is referring to as _'What incident?_ ' and in that time, he has periodically broken down, picked himself back up and broken down all over again. He had moments of strength, then of despair and longing, because despite what Hyeong-bae did and all the ways he shattered their relationship, Jiyong missed him. It was hard without him there.  
  
He wrote a few texts but deleted them before hitting send. Every time he missed Hyeong-bae and his jokes and his energy, Jiyong would remember his arms around him, dragging him inside. He would remember feeling helpless and afraid. And all for what? A kiss? Some naïve crush? Hyeong-bae was his lifeline and he’d ruined everything.   
  
Jiyong had Seungri and Xin and a handful of friends but they didn't seem _enough_. They couldn't be what Hyeong-bae was. A live-in minder and on-call therapist. They couldn't be there for him the way Hyeong-bae was. He didn't want to bother them like that. So, he kept to himself. He went over in his mind all the ways things could have gone differently. If Hyeong-bae had kissed him out of the blue, _surprised_ him --- things wouldn't be so bad. They could have worked through it, but he didn't. Hyeong-bae went off the rails. He _grabbed_ him and threw him around and that went above and beyond a workable problem. Right?  
  
Even if Jiyong understood on some level what he was going through, it wasn't _forgivable_. It didn't excuse anything, it only explained it.  
  
Now, Jiyong watches him go through every room in the apartment, loading his bags with things he'd left behind. The things he'd started bringing in to make himself at home. _He doesn't seem crazy now,_ Jiyong thinks.   
  
Hyeong-bae is subdued. He won't look him in the eyes. He moves as quickly as possible through each room, doing a thorough job of erasing himself. When he walks out of here, there won’t be anything left to show he was there at all. The thought makes Jiyong's heart ache. It reminds him of walking through Seunghyun's apartment, seeing the bits of himself he had left there, toothbrushes and CD's and pyjamas.  
  
When Hyeong-bae finally gets his things together, he has four full overnight bags. He is having trouble carrying them all and he drops one by the door. Jiyong looks at it there on the floor and wonders what's inside. His old shirts or his action movies or one of his books maybe. What parts of himself are sitting there on the floor?  
  
He stands up to help him. He can take one bag, they can awkwardly move in silence to the taxi downstairs, because there has to be a taxi. Hyeong-bae doesn't have a car. Jiyong falters for a moment, unsure if he should help or not. Unsure if he physically _can_ help Hyeong-bae disappear.   
  
It isn't fair.  
  
This wasn't supposed to happen, Hyeong-bae wasn't supposed to ---  
  
His life was almost on track again.  
  
'I'm sorry,' Hyeong-bae says from the door. 'About the kiss'.  
  
He sounds sincere and Jiyong wants to accept it, but what about the rest of it? He waits for something else, an explanation --- a grander and larger apology to cover everything else, but It doesn't come and Jiyong falls apart at the seams. No-one ever explains themselves. No-one ever apologises right.   
  
'Is that _it?'_ Jiyong questions him. 'Just the kiss? A kiss is _nothing!_ ’  
  
'I just ---'  
  
_'I get it!_ ' Jiyong snaps, overcome. He feels the rage all over, for what happened and what can't happen any longer. Anger for the friendship he's relied upon being cut short. 'I _get_ it! You had _feelings_ all of a sudden and you had a big fucking crisis about it. That's why you disappeared, right? You were trying to sort it out? I get that! And you know what, if you had just kissed me, things would be different. We could have worked it out. It wouldn't be such a terrible thing, but what you _did_?'  
  
'It wasn't so bad as that,' Hyeong-bae says, though he doesn't sound convinced.  
  
Jiyong propels himself off the lounge and kicks Hyeong-bae's bags right out of his hands and shoves him as hard as he can until he stumbles back and hits the corner of a wall.  
  
'You grabbed me!' Jiyong answers. ‘You scared the shit out of me. You _scared_ me. You scared my dog. I tried to get _away_ from you. Do you get that? And you _stopped_ me. You're supposed to be my friend, but you picked me up like I was a child and pulled me back’.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks past Jiyong's face. He can't make eye contact. His jaw clenches.  
  
'I thought you were going to hurt me. _I don't know._ It doesn't matter. Friends don't do that. I trusted you,’ he says earnestly. ‘I _needed_ you and you've fucking ruined everything and all for what? Because you're having a big fucking gay crisis or something? You've got a little crush on me and---'  
  
Hyeong-bae shoves Jiyong so hard he stumbles back. He trips over one of the bags and hits the ground, ass first.  
  
'I'm not gay,' Hyeong-bae whispers, pointing. His voice wavers and he looks sorry. ' _It's_ _not like that_ '.  
  
Jiyong is stunned by the fall and momentarily frightened, but he bolsters himself quick enough and his anger supersedes everything else.  
  
'You _kissed_ me,' he yells back, content to stay on the floor. 'You grabbed my face and you kissed me! What do you call that?’  
  
Hyeong-bae's nostrils flare and he paces back and forth, fists clenched. Jiyong sits up and rubs his elbows. They hit the ground hard and he feels sore all over.  
  
'Why are you so angry?' Jiyong asks resignedly after a time. 'So, you've got a crush or something, so what? We all have crushes at some point. It's not a big deal, and even if you _were_ gay --- which is unlikely given your 30-year history of loving women, it wouldn't matter. It's not the end of the fucking world. Men can like men’.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs quietly and shakes his head.   
  
'You don't get it. You couldn't _possibly_ get it ---'  
  
Jiyong lays down, his back flat against the floorboards and resigns himself to whatever fucking stupidity comes next. He hasn't got the energy anymore, to be angry _or_ scared.  
  
'And why is that?' he asks.  
  
'Because this hasn't _happened_ to you! Can you imagine waking up to this? You like women for thirty years and wake up one morning longing to see someone's face, and it’s _you?_ You’re not in my fucking wheelhouse! I don’t want this’.  
  
Jiyong resists the urge to say, ' _I do know what that's like actually ---'_ but he doesn't.  
  
'Don't you get it? I fucking _like_ you. You haven't shaved and you've got no tits and that doesn't bother me. I've got feelings I can't get my head around and it's _bullshi_ t. This whole thing with you and me. What was I even doing here? _'_  
  
Jiyong props himself up on his elbows.   
  
'What are you talking about?'  
  
'All that time we spent together? You buy me things, you give me money, you ask me to move in with you? You expect nothing from me except that I be nearby. Like I'm a kept man. It seemed normal after a while. I didn't question it, but you know what? Grown men don't _have_ this kind of relationship with each-other. You made it seem so ordinary, I didn't even realise what was happening until I woke up one day and thought, _'Fuck!'_ \--- You were going on dates with these girls and I was thinking, _'Shit, I hope this doesn't work out. I hope this one’s a bitch, or she has an annoying laugh or she's shallow or fucking' ugly ---'_  
  
'You were jealous of me going out with other people?'  
  
'Yes!' Hyeong-bae shouts. 'I couldn't stand it! So, I stopped coming around because it was _you!_ You _did_ this to me! I thought if I could just get away from you, it would _stop!'_  
  
'I didn't _do_ anything to you,' Jiyong replies in irritation.   
  
'Yes, you did! Before _you_ , this wasn't a problem!'  
  
'Well fuck, sorry for being so irresistible'.  
  
There's a terse moment where Jiyong doesn't know if Hyeong-bae's going to kick him in the face or not, but he doesn't do that. He laughs instead. He throws his head back the way Jiyong does and laughs so hard he has to sit. His legs shake on the way down. Hyeong-bae crosses his legs and Jiyong does the same, both sat on the floor, three metres apart.   
  
Hyeong-bae laughs until his laughs turn to tears. He buries his face in his hands and from behind shaking fingers, Jiyong can hear a broken, ' _This is not who I am'._  
  
He rolls his eyes but tries to sound supportive when he answers.   
  
'Sorry, but it looks like it might be'.  
  
In a way, Jiyong understands Hyeong-bae's anger, though he's never had a full-blown sexual identity crisis of his own. It just wasn't a terrifying thing to realise he liked Seunghyun when he did. He had moments of self-loathing and fear but they were dwarfed by the urge to get on with it. He liked someone with a dick and in the grand scheme of things, that wasn't the worst thing to ever happen. Besides, he liked women so he never had a 'gay' crisis per se. Seunghyun was just a surprising addition.  
  
Hyeong-bae obviously _liked_ women. He'd come out of a year-long relationship with a woman not long before the night they reconnected at the club, and you don't come out of a year-long relationship with a woman and suddenly become gay. Bisexual maybe, but even then. And _how_ did he like him? What kind of feelings did he have? Did he like him in a high-school crush sort of way, or was he having a _full-blown_ sexual identity crisis? Did he picture him naked or did he like him for his mind or his sense of humour instead. Maybe he was attracted to his money and the easy life Jiyong served up for him.   
  
There were a lot of ways to _like_ somebody.  
  
Jiyong struggles to think of the right way to comfort him, to explain without actually saying he understands _completely_. Sometimes you just like someone with a dick and you've got to live with it. Life goes on.  
  
He can't seem to find the words though. He can't be _honest_ with him and nothing else seems like the right thing to say, so he says nothing. He just watches him cry. And Hyeong-bae cries the way _fully grown men_ cry, in that forbidden way you're not supposed to see. The way men cry when they lose their kids or their partners to sickness and tragedy. Emotion so deep-rooted they can't stop themselves.  
  
Maybe this _is_ a big thing, Jiyong thinks. Maybe sexual crises are life defining moments and not a quirk the way he thought of his own. Maybe he was too rash. Hyeong-bae sits folded in on himself and Jiyong feels a deep sense of guilt and responsibility all of a sudden.  
  
Hyeong-bae is completely broken by this, incapacitated by the thought of having feelings for him and Jiyong is answerable to that. Somehow, he encouraged this, sparked something --- maybe he was too feminine at some point or too quiet or too emotional. Maybe the way he relied on Hyeong-bae was what _did_ this to him? Maybe Hyeong-bae confused a kind of paternal instinct with something else. Jiyong sent mix signals somewhere along the way --- he cultivated the environment that sparked these feelings, that _confused_ him.  
  
He feels guilt, all the way down to his bones.  
  
Still, he is sympathetic.  
  
They sit in silence for a long while until Hyeong-bae calms down and Jiyong wonders where they go from here. He imagines all the ways he can make this right and he suddenly wants to. Somewhere amidst Hyeong-bae's break-down, he found a way to understand him and what went wrong. But Hyeong-bae hasn't thought the same thoughts. He doesn't want to stay. He doesn't want to make it right. He stands after a while and grabs his bags. He apologises and then he moves for the door.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Jiyong watches him go.  
  
He imagines a life without him. He imagines a quiet apartment instead of one filled with noise. No more early morning wake-up calls to exercise, no more dice-rolling to decide on dinner, no more childish games of charades when there's nothing on TV. If Hyeong-bae leaves, Jiyong will _miss_ him. Worse than that, he'll be on his own again. Just him and the dog and the silence.  
  
Hyeong-bae can't _leave_.  
  
Even after what's happened, Jiyong can't see him go. Not _forever._  
  
He darts in front of the door as Hyeong-bae reaches for the handle.  
  
'Please,' he begs, ’don't go. Not for good anyway. Go home and sort this out in your head but _come back_ , okay? Promise me you'll come back’.  
  
'I can't _,'_ Hyeong-bae says.  
  
He seems tired and wrung out, the way Jiyong feels himself.  
  
'Why not?' Jiyong questions, 'I _need_ you. I need you to put shit movies on and play with my dog and make me laugh and go places with me and talk to me, okay? I need that!'  
  
'You need to be looked _after,'_ Hyeong-bae corrects. 'You need me to hang around all the time because you're lonely. That's all it is. When I go, you'll find somebody else. You're fine now, you've moved on from your girl, you've been dating, you're good to go! But me? I can't do this'.  
  
Hyeong-bae pushes Jiyong aside, careful to make sure he's gentle in doing it and opens the door, giving a tired wave with his bags in hand.  
  
Jiyong can feel all the air leave his lungs at once; like falling from a great height. And then there's nothing but a sense of urgency and a lack of corroboration between mind and body. He grabs Hyeong-bae by the shoulder and turns him back around.  
  
'Wait, stop. I do get it. I _get it,_ okay?'  
  
Hyeong-bae looks frustrated and his eyebrows rise.  
  
'What?' he asks harshly. 'What do you _get?'_  
  
Then Jiyong says what starts it all.  
  
'What if I feel something too?'   
  
Hyeong-bae shakes his head like that might help him understand.  
  
'Do you?'  
  
Jiyong's throat burns and he can feel tears coming. Just saying the words upsets him. His whole body revolts against them.  
  
'Maybe'.  
  
He's not thinking about it. Any of it. He just says the words as they come to him and it doesn't matter if they're true or not, all that matters is that Hyeong-bae stays.  
  
'If you leave now, we'll never know,' Jiyong says. 'I know you're angry about this, I get it. I really do. But trust me, it's not the worst thing in the world and if you leave now, this will never be resolved. You'll always wonder---'.  
  
He needs Hyeong-bae, or maybe he doesn't anymore. He doesn't know. He's not willing to take the chance either way. He's so close. Everything is almost alright again. He is almost a whole person again and if Hyeong-bae leaves now, he could ruin everything.  
  
'What are you saying?'  
  
Jiyong just needs him for a little while longer. He has to be _sure_. He has to be _okay_ before Hyeong-bae walks out the door, so Jiyong does what he has to. He says what he thinks will make Hyeong-bae stay that little bit longer.  
  
'I want you to stay. I think I like you too and we'll figure this out, okay? Just don't go!'  
  
Deep down he knows what he's doing. He knows he'll pay for it down the line, but that's a problem for another day. Today, right now _in this moment,_ all that matters is that Hyeong-bae _stays_ , by any means necessary.  
  
Hyeong-bae drops his bags and looks lost, like a child missing his parents or a dog on the street and Jiyong asks in a voice that breaks mid-way, 'I can make you a coffee if you want? Do you want to sit down?'

 

  
  
*

 

 

Afterwards, things almost go back to normal.  
  
Six weeks later, Hyeong-bae cracks jokes, though he's a little more reserved. He makes quips and re-situates himself in the apartment after 'taking some time' on his own and Jiyong thinks maybe, just maybe, he made the right call. Jiyong tries to avoid the topic of _feelings_ altogether while still subtly trying to ingrain in Hyeong-bae the notion that liking another man isn't the worst thing in the world. He tries desperately to keep things going the way they were before _'What incident?'_  
  
But it doesn't last.  
  
Jiyong never thought it would, he just needed time, _more time._  
  
One night, Hyeong-bae tries to make dinner and that simple gesture starts it all. It's a fucking disaster. There's mess all over the kitchen and Jiyong moves in to scold him but Hyeong-bae startles him. He flicks flour in his face that goes up Jiyong's nose and gets in his eyes and makes him furious --- but instead of shouting like he intends, he does it right back. He grabs a handful of flour off the counter and throws it right in Hyeong-bae's face and somehow, that cheers him right up.  
  
Cue a food fight so disastrous it takes two weeks to fully clean it up and they're _both_ laughing; Jiyong can't remember the last time he laughed so earnestly --- and then, like a picturesque scene from a film, Hyeong-bae ducks down and kisses him. It's better than the rage and the unpredictable mood-swings and Jiyong's not sure how Hyeong-bae does it, how he has reconciled himself to it. He must have been soul-searching on his own time to suddenly make a move like this after all his anger and confusion.  
  
Jiyong is startled by the kiss and his insides quake. He feels sick, like running away, like moving house or fleeing the country without ever seeing Hyeong-bae's face again. It is only a brief kiss and beneath the flour all over his face, Jiyong can see Hyeong-bae looks anxious and worried and then Jiyong feels like crying because he has made such a terrible mistake.   
  
He just wanted so desperately to be _alright_ and Hyeong-bae was a huge part of that and he was _going_ to let him leave but fear blinded him. He was selfish. He let Hyeong-bae think there was something between them, that if he stayed, his dividends may pay off one day, that they could find a happy medium together.  
  
Jiyong strung him along and he is standing here now, feeling desperately sick and angry and and guilty and Hyeong-bae is _there,_ waiting for something … for some life affirming response to his moment of courage and Jiyong doesn't know what to do except maybe tell the truth, _'I'm sorry but ---'_  
  
‘You didn’t like it?' Hyeong-bae asks quietly. His voice says it all. It airs all his fears and regrets. Jiyong unconsciously pulls a hand to cover his mouth momentarily and then answers, his head full of all the ways he can apologise and remedy this and pay for what he's done ----  
  
'I ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae looks to the ground, anticipating all the unsaid words in Jiyong's mind.  
  
'I was just surprised,' Jiyong lies.  
  
Hyeong-bae's head snaps up. He looks hopeful and it makes Jiyong's guts churn and his legs go weak and not in any of the ways he wants that.  
  
Hyeong-bae leans in again, encouraged. He brings himself down to Jiyong's level and with a burning throat and an upset stomach and a raging mind, Jiyong allows a second kiss and in a passive and small way, returns it.  
  
He doesn't want to, he just does.  
  
Apart from that brief burst of violence, Hyeong-bae has been good to him. He saved his life and he stuck around and saved him again and again each and every day Jiyong otherwise wouldn't have found a reason to get out of bed. Hyeong-bae has done all that and more and in return Jiyong has lied to him, humiliated him. He can't come clean now. He can't just say, _'I'm sorry but ---'_  
  
He can't encourage him because it's convenient and then push him away.   
  
He has to wait him out. Someone so uncomfortable with the idea of being interested in men doesn't just look inside themselves and jump straight into a brave new world of gayness. _It won't last_ , Jiyong tells himself that. _Best and most likely scenario._ Worst case scenario, it _does_ last.  
  
_That wouldn't be so bad,_ Jiyong resolves on a quiet night. _Hyeong-bae's funny, nice, smart in his own way, attractive in his own way --_ \- he could learn to love him if he had to.  
  
At the very least, he wouldn't be alone and that's all that really matters anymore.  


 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

'There are over 20,000 kinds of bacteria in one litre of seawater,' Jiyong says, slumping over the keyboard. 'That's _disgusting'._  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs, 'How much did you drink?'  
  
'A _lot_ '.  
  
He feels queasy just thinking about it. He lays his cheek flat on the keyboard and the laptop beeps its disapproval. He imagines all the new micro-organisms floating around inside his body. There's probably water in his lungs.  
  
Hyeong-bae sits a glass of water on the table and sits down. It sloshes around in the glass and a drop escapes over the rim. Jiyong groans. He turns his head the other way but Hyeong-bae yanks on his chair and Jiyong begrudgingly turns back. He keeps his eyes shut tight. He doesn't want to see water again for as long as he lives. How is he ever going to shower again? The rest of his life will be a vicious cycle of showering and vomiting in the shower.  
  
He used to _like_ the beach.  
  
Hyeong-bae feels his forehead, indulging his complaint.  
  
Jiyong has kept up a steady stream of whining and periods of ill silence ever since they left the water. In the time he has spent searching the internet for the dangers of gulping down sea-water, Hyeong-bae has taken a thirty-minute shower, got dressed and ordered some food to boot.  
  
'You do feel warm,' he says, 'and you look a little blue'.  
  
Jiyong groans. How far away is the nearest hospital? Does he have a will? When did the ocean turn against him? It was all that time spent in chlorinated pools. The ocean sensed betrayal and spat him out. After it tried to drown him, that is.  
  
He frowns.  
  
He's too young to die. There are so many places he hasn't been, so many things he never got to wear, so many awards he never won. He opens his eyes to find Hyeong-bae watching him with concern.  
  
'You know you can drown from swallowing just one mouthful of sea water? Some drownings happen _days_ after a person has left the beach,' he says matter of factly.  
  
That's true, Jiyong saw that on TV once. Secondary drowning. He's never been less excited to be on an island.  
  
Hyeong-bae's serious face slowly cracks until he breaks into a grin and laughs. Jiyong wants to deck him, throw that water in his face and elbow him in the eye socket, but he doesn't. He shoves him instead. He pushes him until he falls off the chair and lands on the floor, still laughing.  
  
'You're such an asshole,' Jiyong laments, slumping face down on the carpet beside him. 'I take you on a nice trip for your birthday and you ruin it'.  
  
Hyeong-bae raises his arms in defence.  
  
'What did I do?'  
  
'You're laughing at me! Be nice to the dying man’.  
  
'I told you a hundred times on the way back, you’re fine'.  
  
And he did, in between complaints about sand in his crack, which is why Jiyong almost drowned in the first place. He'd been swimming a few metres out when Hyeong-bae joined him in the water. He stood there, toes barely touching the sand bank and took his trunks off, to Jiyongs amazement, so he could get 'sand out of his ass'.  
  
Jiyong laughed so hard, he lost his balance and sank under the water. It went up his nose and down his throat and thanks to that asshole, he drank half his body weight in sea water.  
  
'I'm not blue then?' Jiyong asks. 'I'm not warm? I _feel_ warm'. He rolls over and feels his forehead but he can't tell. Is his palm hot or his forehead? He throws an arm over and feels Hyeong-bae's but it's the same. Warm is warm.  
  
'You're _fine_ ,' Hyeong-bae says.  
  
'No thanks to you'.  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls on his side and props himself up.  
  
'It's not my fault you almost drowned yourself'.  
  
He pushes Hyeong-bae's elbow out from under him and he falls back down.  
  
'It _is_ your fault. You made me laugh'.  
  
'You can't float and laugh at the same time?'  
  
'Apparently not'.  
  
Hyeong-bae ducks his head down and kisses him. It's just a peck but it's nice and Jiyong stops worrying, briefly, about the 20,000 kinds of bacteria in each litre of sea water.  
  
When they pull apart, Hyeong-bae smiles sweetly and whispers in a low, seductive tone. 'I'm having a good trip. That's all that matters, isn't it?'

Jiyong shoves him.  
  
Not that he'd tell him, but he's having a good trip too.

  
  


*

 

 

Hyeong-bae was turning 32 and being on the outs with his family, Jiyong was the only one left to make his birthday worth anything. He had other friends but he rarely saw them, so Jiyong took a chance and rented a house in Jocheon-eup for the week. When Hyeong-bae came back from the grocery store one night, a week before his big day, Jiyong casually slid into conversation, while putting things away, 'I rented a house on Jeju for your birthday. I thought we could go away for a few days'.  
  
Hyeong-bae was surprised but so touched and excited by the gesture, he threw Jiyong over his shoulder and gave him a blow job in the bedroom while the refrigerator door sat open, forgotten. When Jiyong stumbled out ten minutes later, things were starting to melt. He didn't really care.  
  
The house they rented was on a large property with a green garden. Rhododendrons grew out of the fencing walls. They were wild. His mother liked those, she grew them in her garden. The property was fenced in on all sides by evergreens. It was private and comfortable. They were secreted away. Nobody could see them through the trees so they ate breakfast in the garden. Jiyong got to walk around half naked --- they even managed to sneak onto a beach for two hours without anybody spotting them. Hyeong-bae got sand in his crack and Jiyong swallowed sea-water and nearly drowned himself.  
  
It was _fun._

  
  
  
*

  


The house has two bedrooms and wood panelling on the walls. It's cozy and Jiyong likes it. It makes a nice change. The place has character. He looks at every photo on the wall, opens every cupboard, reads every spine of every book in the bookcase. Being there with Hyeong-bae makes him wonder what it would be like to be ordinary. If he was a normal guy, living a normal life --- would it be like this?  
  
Over the next few days, they laze about, they talk, they watch movies --- Hyeong-bae is starting to get into westerns so Jiyong forces himself to sit through _four_ of them on DVD without groaning or throwing a fit. During the day, they drive around and take in the sights and on his birthday, Jiyong buys Hyeong-bae a cake after bravely venturing into a supermarket on his lonesome to get it.  
  
They watch a movie together on the big day. Jiyong sings happy birthday in the most embarrassing way possible and Hyeong-bae retaliates. He moves over him so he can't get away and tickles him, of all things, like a parent would a child. Jiyong flails and cries out, _'fuck off!_ ' until he's left breathless and flushed and irritated. Hyeong-bae leans down to kiss him.  
  
He's warm and soft and his hands move up under Jiyong's shirt until he spreads his legs to make room for him. Hyeong-bae kisses him like he's saying thank-you, for the trip and everything before it, for the last 5 months and Jiyong kisses him the same way.  
  
This trip means a lot to him.  
  
Their noses bump and Jiyong smiles. It's taken time for them to get here, to this comfort and ease and longing to always be near each other.  
  
After the first kiss in Jiyong's kitchen, two months followed of uncertainty. Hyeong-bae's attitude to their relationship took turns. He'd accept it and himself and then he wouldn't. He'd see Jiyong as the enemy, someone who had changed him for the worse, as if liking men was an illness. He struggled with his feelings and Jiyong tried to coax him out of his negativity while mimicking it at times. Hyeong-bae thought he was straight, he had sometimes, to play the part. To pretend he struggled the way Hyeong-bae struggled --- and that's not to say he didn't.  
  
He liked Hyeong-bae but not in a sexual way, not romantically --- not at first. Jiyong's willingness to give their relationship a shot was purely selfish. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to lose a friend. He resigned himself to a future of grit teeth and discomfort but it wasn't like that for very long.  
  
At the tail end of their second month together, Hyeong-bae settled down. He stopped going to war with himself. He accepted it, their relationship, the not-so-heterosexual side of himself. All of it.  
  
His good days became every day and when that happened, Jiyong was reminded of all the qualities in him that made him so desirable as a friend. After that came other qualities. Hyeong-bae was handsome, he had a romantic streak, he was charming and attentive and funny and above all comfortable. He seemed sure of himself and about their relationship. He made a choice one day to ' _enjoy it,_ ' and afterwards, he did. Jiyong found that alluring. He found that attitude sexy.  
  
Hyeong-bae wooed him.  
  
He actively pursued him. He took him on quiet dates and took him camping and hiking and made him experience new things. He stopped drinking because Jiyong couldn't drink and found other ways for them to have fun. Jiyong fell for him. Hyeong-bae was masculine and domineering one moment and kind and submissive the next. Jiyong could boss him around and be bossed around in return. There was symbiosis.  
  
Hyeong-bae moved in full-time. He kept his apartment across town and Jiyong paid the rent on it, but they rarely visited. They went every few weeks to dust the place and that was it. It became a storage closet.  
  
Jiyong started thinking of his apartment as _their_ apartment.  
  
A few months in, Hyeong-bae walked into Jiyong's room one night and climbed into bed. He didn't say a word. Once he was in, he was in. Jiyong didn't want him to leave after that so they started sleeping together. Jiyong's bed, like the apartment, became theirs instead of his.  
  
Not long after that, Hyeong-bae initiated the next stage of their relationship, to Jiyong's total surprise. One night in bed, as Jiyong was going to sleep, Hyeong-bae just --- _touched_ him. He gave Jiyong a surprisingly not-awkward hand job and that was that.  
  
Two days later Jiyong found an excuse to return the favour and then they talked about it--- the new side of their relationship, insomuch as Jiyong said, 'This is good. Let's keep doing this,' and Hyeong-bae agreed.  
  
Jiyong tested the waters some time after with a blow job and things went pretty smoothly from that point on. It was all very undramatic. He was surprised by Hyeong-bae's willingness but thought, once you've decided you're gay for someone, you might as well reap the benefits. He figured Hyeong-bae thought the same. Jiyong _liked_ sleeping with him, he liked being touched by him, he wanted to touch him in return.  
  
He fell hard. No longer lonely _or_ sexually frustrated, things were looking up and not just at home, but work also.

Jiyong got the news through the grapevine; There was an American producer on loan to YG for 12 months and Jiyong wanted to work with him. Adam Andrews. AA. International man of mystery / producer extraordinaire. Seldom heard of, often heard.  
  
Adam had dark cropped hair that reminded Jiyong of Seunghyun during the movie that took a piece of his hand. It was a boys haircut. Adam was 34, had a beard that never seemed quite the same length and had a man's man handshake that made Jiyong feel slightly emasculated.  
  
Before his arrival, Jiyong had been in and out of the studio. He was getting re-accustomed, wandering around, doing bits and pieces here and there. Hyeong-bae encouraged him and Jiyong pursued it. He was writing again, he could hear music in his head --- he heard it everywhere. Washing the dishes, he'd hear pieces in his mind--- a few words and the tune would follow. He'd drop whatever he was doing and dash into the home-studio and spew forth his brain-mess into a mic then sit there for hours trying to build something around it.  
  
Hyeong-bae would come home from wherever he went during the day and find half-cooked food on the kitchen counter or jobs half-done.  
  
When Jiyong heard about Adam, he spent hours searching the internet. He downloaded every song he'd ever worked on and Jiyong _wanted_ him. He wanted his expertise, his fresh perspective. He'd been hired to work with fledgling groups in the company but Jiyong set up a meeting anyway. If he could find any time at all for him, Jiyong would take it.  
  
Turns out, he had time. The way Adams schedule worked out, he had a month of reasonable freedom before he had to give the bulk of his year to other groups and artists so Jiyong jumped right in and his time wasn't wasted.  
  
Adam brought perspective and fresh ideas and an honesty Jiyong didn't always get from Teddy or Choice. There was freedom in working with someone who wasn't a friend --- who didn't mind giving him a dose of reality and Adam did that. It was off-putting at first, especially when he handed back a page of Jiyong's ideas with notes in the margins saying, 'explain' and 'good idea?' and _'No'._  
  
That was his favourite word during their first week together --- Jiyong would do something, record something one way and then another and all he'd get back was 'No' and 'No' and 'Again, No'.  
  
_'You told me you wanted something different but you're doing the same stuff. I listened to your records this week and everything you've shown me is the same shit --- you're not trying hard enough'._  
  
Jiyong came home one night, dejected, ready to throw in the towel. It was too discouraging to come back to work only to hear _'No'._ He vented to Hyeong-bae who was sympathetic but eventually said, 'Why don't you do it his way for a week? See what happens? Worst case scenario, you've lost a week'.  
  
Which made sense --- and putting his pride aside, Adam _was_ useful. Jiyong was excited about the music they were making. He worked all day and all night. Being told 'no' made him work harder; He left his comfort zone, which he figured was the point of being told _no_ one hundred times.  
  
Adam pushed his buttons on purpose, the way Yang did --- to motivate and to challenge him and Jiyong thrived on it. He was happy at work and happy at home and that was all Hyeong-bae. Without him, Jiyong couldn't imagine where he'd be, how he could have recovered from what Seunghyun had done. For the way he made him feel about himself, insecure and fragile and broken.  
  
Hyeong-bae gave Jiyong his life back.  
  
In less than a year, he'd come back from rock-bottom. He was a whole human being again and that was asking a lot of him. A year was a short time.  
  
Jiyong stopped seeing his 'withdrawal' from the world as a failure and more as a success because he'd done that. He'd picked himself back up and in the grand scheme of things, he'd done it quickly.  
  
His holiday with Hyeong-bae is a mark of triumph.  
  
  


*

 

 

 

  
'Happy birthday,' Jiyong whispers, with legs wrapped around Hyeong-bae's waist. Hyeong-bae grips tighter and Jiyong keens, their cocks together in his heavy hand. 'Fuck, that feels really good'.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs above him and he bends to kiss his forehead. ' _I'm_ enjoying it'.  
  
It's the tenth time Jiyong has said it in as many minutes. Every time he says happy birthday, something good happens. First it was a kiss, then a grope, then the pants were off, then he was naked, then there was a mouth on him, then lube got involved and now Hyeong-bae's jerking them off together and wow, it feels _really good._  
  
Jiyong doesn't want it to stop. Heat pools in the pit of his stomach and his balls tighten. It's only been a few minutes but he's so fucking close already and it's only 9 o'clock. What sort of birthday ends at 9:01? So he says it again in the vain hope that what comes next gives him a little relief, lets him breathe ---  
  
He pulls Hyeong-bae down by the neck and whispers into the side of his mouth, 'Happy Birthday'.

 

  
  
*

 

 

  
Jiyong lays a hand on Hyeong-bae's chest to still him and pulls back so they're face to face. He can feel Hyeong-bae's breath against his chin, he's so close.  
  
'Are we ---' Jiyong whispers cautiously, he doesn't know how to say it --- maybe he's misreading the signals. 'Do you want to --- _fuck_?'  
  
It's not a stupid question. It's 9:24pm. He's somehow made his way on top again and Hyeong-bae's fingers keep sliding down his ass in teasing sweeps. Jiyong asks and Hyeong-bae doesn't answer. He looks embarrassed all of a sudden, like Jiyong asking is more of a big deal than his fingers going where they've never been before.  
  
They're doing a lot of things tonight they've never done before. Tonight is _different._ Jiyong can feel it. This isn't like any other time they've fooled around. He can't put his finger on it but tonight has been foreplay instead of the end game. Tonight isn't _getting off_ , it's something else.  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't answer the question but he wants to, doesn't he?  
  
'Because,' Jiyong says quietly, tying to reassure him with a careful smile, 'I'm okay with that. If you do'.  
  
And he is. He didn't realise until he asked the question, but he is. Hell, there's a packet of condoms in his bag and some lube. If he wasn't okay with it, why would he bring them? He had to know, on some level, this was probably going to happen. Part of him hoped. A romantic getaway to celebrate a birthday? The chances were always pretty high.  
  
Hyeong-bae's awkward exterior cracks and he smiles. His hand covers Jiyong's like he needs reassurance. Unequivocal proof that he's heard what he heard.  
  
'Yeah?'  
  
Jiyong nods and ducks down again to kiss him. Hyeong-bae's fingers lace through his and Jiyong whispers into the side of his mouth, 'Yeah'.  
  
It feels right. Now, here, tonight of all nights. It's been long enough. If Hyeong-bae wants to do this, Jiyong does too.  
  
It's _time_.  
  
Ten minutes later, Jiyong has been on his back twice and back up again. It's too much. Knowing what tonight is about makes it different. It makes them clumsy. They can't keep their hands off each other, all frenzied touches and kisses like teenage boys who don't know what to do with each other.  
  
'Wait,' Jiyong whispers, kissing Hyeong-bae's neck, his cheek, below his ear. He wants to touch him everywhere, wants to kiss every part of him.  
  
'How do we --- I mean, how much porn have you been watching? Do you know how to --- '  
  
He didn't think about that. Hyeong-bae hasn't done this before and he thinks Jiyong hasn't either. How will they---  
  
Hyeong-bae _laughs._ He kisses Jiyong on the forehead.  
  
'Actually,' he says, 'my girlfriend ---'  
  
He stops mid-way. Jiyong's eyebrows rise and Hyeong-bae looks bashful suddenly.  
  
'She let me ---'  
  
_\--- Oh!_  
  
'Fuck her in the ass?' Jiyong asks, surprised. No girl ever let him do that before. Then again, he'd never asked one.  
  
'Yes,' Hyeong-bae says pointedly. 'She let me fuck her in the ass'.  
  
Jiyong's stunned briefly, then he laughs in his face.  
  
Hyeong-bae's such a _nice guy_ , he can't imagine him doing _that_. Who suggested it? Him or the girl? Then again, fucking a girl in the ass doesn't make you a _bad_ guy, does it. Jiyong's not sure why he finds it funny, but he does. He can't imagine it.  
  
Either way, he's _relieved_. If Hyeong-bae's done this before, maybe it won't be so awkward, it won't hurt --- he won't have to play the virgin because Hyeong-bae can take charge. Jiyong worried about that, how he'd _pretend_ when it finally happened, how he could guide Hyeong-bae without giving himself away.  
  
Now it isn't a problem.  
  
'You never told me you did that,' Jiyong says.  
  
'When did you want me to bring it up?'  
  
That's a fair point. Now is as good a time as any. He leans down. He plants a kiss square on Hyeong-bae's mouth and bites his bottom lip. He likes being on top. He doesn't always but he does tonight --- he likes being in control.  
  
So, does Hyeong-bae. He grabs Jiyong's waist tightly, kicks his leg out from under him and rolls them over so Jiyong's pinned beneath him. He kisses him, a light peck --- then rolls him again, so Jiyong's on his stomach, face down in the mattress.   
  
Jiyong's dick responds to that --- to being manhandled in bed. _Fuck,_ he really likes it ---  
  
'I guess you have done this before,' Jiyong says, face flushed. 'We're good to go, unless your girlfriends asshole was in the wrong place and you're actually _not_ an expert'.  
  
Every word out of his mouth sends him into a shame spiral but he can't stop himself. He's so nervous he can't shut up. The bullshit flows out of him like water from a tap. Hyeong-bae laughs loudly and his hands move down Jiyong's back, one light touch trailing down to his ass.  
  
'No, I think it was in the right spot. Is yours?'  
  
Jiyong swallows a lump in his throat. 'I guess you'll find out'.  
  
And he does.  
  
And it is. _In the right spot_ \--- Hyeong-bae makes sure a few times. Jiyong buries his face in the pillow beneath him, trying to stop his body from moving against his will.

 

  
  
*

 

  
All fun and games aside, at 9:39, Jiyong feels a little less turned on and a little more nervous, a little more sick to his stomach. This is happening, he thinks. He's going to fuck me. He's behind me and he's got his fingers in my ass and it feels good and --- any minute now he's going to ---  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes and tries to relax. He wants to do this, god he _really_ does, but they've never done it before and he's not exactly a seasoned professional either. He's only been with one person --- only ever let one person ---  
  
Hyeong-bae will be different. It will be different with him. He doesn't know how but it will. He'll feel different, he'll move differently. Will he talk or stay quiet? What sounds will he make? What will he expect him to _do_?  
  
Hyeong-bae senses Jiyong's inner turmoil because his fingers come out and, after wiping them on the nice sheets, he runs his hands up Jiyong's back.  
  
'We don't have to do this,' he says. 'We can do this any time ----'  
  
Jiyong hangs his head and laughs because they can, obviously, but he doesn't want to. He wants to do it now, he's just nervous. He turns his head back, 'Don't try and get out of this now,' he says. 'You've made a commitment'.  
  
He shakes his ass with the most bullshit fake confidence he can muster and Hyeong-bae says, _'Alright'_.  
  
Jiyong faces the wall again and breathes slow and deep. It's fine, he thinks. You've done this before, a hundred times. It's all pretty much the same, isn't it? When he hears the condom wrapper his nervousness kicks up a notch. He feels butterflies in the pit of his stomach. _Shit, this is happening, shit._  
  
Hyeong-bae's hands find his hips ---  
  
And then ...  
  
Something goes wrong.  
  
It happens so suddenly, it takes Jiyong by surprise. He's fine one moment and not the next. All of a sudden, his chest hurts. He fills with anxiety and his heart pounds in his chest, and not just ordinary, 'I'm fucking someone for the first time,' anxiety but something else entirely. The world spins. He grips the sheets with both hands and takes a deep breath to calm down but it doesn't work.  
  
Hyeong-bae nudges his thighs further apart. His hands smooth over Jiyong's tail bone and then down to cup his ass. Jiyong hangs his head lower and breathes tiny rapid breaths as quietly as possible --- _calm down,_ he thinks, _fuck_.  
  
It's anxiety times a thousand. The nausea moments before walking on stage, the feeling he had during all their scandals. It hurts, _physically_ \--- it's an ache in the pit of his gut and a tightness in his chest and ---  
  
_What the fuck is happening,_ Jiyong thinks.   
  
His heart beats so fast in his chest, he can't breathe properly. His face flushes. He feels like he's suffocating. Hyeong-bae touches him again, a light gesture and Jiyong makes a sound --- there's a weight on his chest, pushing against his ribcage. His stomach seizes.  
  
_Fuck, fuck fuck ---_  
  
He's going to be _sick._  
  
His eyes clench tight and his stomach seizes again, his throat tightens and he feels the urge to get away, to hit the bathroom as quickly as possible. This isn't happening, he thinks, not now, _not now._  
  
Hyeong-bae moves against him, Jiyong can feel him there behind him and his body revolts. Jiyong throws an arm back. He grabs hold of Hyeong-bae's wrist to _stop_ him.  
  
'Jiyo--'  
  
_'Stop,'_ Jiyong groans. _'Please. Fuck'._  
  
He moves fast.  
  
He shrinks away from Hyeong-bae in an instant, rolling over and off the bed on shaky legs. The ground moves beneath him. He mutters a pleading apology in Hyeong-bae's direction, slaps a hand over his mouth and he's _gone._ His legs give way half-way to the bathroom and he sinks to his knees with a painful thud. He swears between heavy breaths but scrambles back to his feet and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  
  
He sinks down by the toilet in one smooth motion. It's fucking graceful, like a ballerina. His stomach roils and his mouth waters. He's going to be sick. He clutches the porcelain and shuffles closer. The edges of the tiles dig into his knees. His body is freezing but his face is hot.  
  
This isn't happening, he thinks. Not now, of all times, this can't be happening. I'm not naked in a bathroom, throwing up when I should be ---- _fuck, what will he think?_  
  
His fingers clutch the toilet tighter and he tries to breathe evenly.  
  
There's a knock on the door.  
  
_Hyeong-bae._  
  
His voice comes through the door, 'Are you okay?'  
  
Jiyong makes a pitiful sound when he tries to answer because no, _he's not okay._ What if I'm dying, he thinks. What if this is how it all ends? Naked in a stranger’s bathroom. Caught up in a gay love affair. _The scandal._  
  
'I'm fine,' he manages. 'I'm sick. _I'll be okay_ '. He clutches his stomach and manages to say, 'Go back to bed'.  
  
_As if._  
  
'Sick _how?'_ The door handle rattles but Jiyong locked it. _He can't get in._ He's not sure why he did that. Privacy? Hyeong-bae knocks again. His voice is strained. _'Let me in_ '.  
  
He sounds worried. _God, he's nice._ If their roles were reversed, Jiyong's not sure he'd sound so concerned. He'd be too busy crying or wondering what it was about him that made Hyeong-bae feel sick. He groans quietly. He can't answer. He wants to die. He _is_ dying --- He feels like his insides are tearing in half.  
  
'Please go away,' he groans. Leave me to die in peace.  
  
Hyeong-bae's voice changes quickly to a more authoritative tone that's hard to ignore.  
  
'I won't come in if you don't want me to but unlock the door'.  
  
'Why?' Jiyong moans, head disappearing half into the toilet. His stomach roils --- _Oh God, why is this happening to me ----_  
  
'In case you pass out and die, obviously. Unlock the door'.  
  
Fuck, Jiyong thinks. That's so responsible and adult and _considerate_ and a good idea _probably._ Better Hyeong-bae finds my body than the owner of the house or the police after they kick the door in.  
  
He bolsters himself, takes deep measured breaths then walks to the door like a baby giraffe and unlocks it. Hyeong-bae says thank-you through the door but he doesn't come in. He keeps his promise.  
  
Jiyong stumbles back to the toilet and throws up.

 

 

 

*

  


  
When he wakes hours later, it's daylight. He can see through the curtains, the overcast sky. He wonders what time it is. When he rolls to find the alarm clock, a damp cloth falls onto the mattress from his forehead. It was warm --- it must have been there a while.  
  
The alarm clock reads 2:08.  
  
Fucking _two ---_  
  
Jiyong sits bolt upright in half a second but regrets it immediately. His head throbs, a painful tic behind his eye. His head feels like it's in a vice and his stomach aches.  
  
The evening comes back to him and the embarrassment almost kills him. How did he get into bed? He can't remember what he was doing last. He remembers throwing up and lying flat on the tiles to try and cool his burning face and then --- waking up.  
  
Hyeong-bae.  
  
Good thing he unlocked the door.  
  
Jiyong has to find him, he has to say sorry --- if that even covers what's happened. How can he be sick? He was perfectly fine? You don't go from perfectly fine to passing-out-sick in a matter of minutes. Stress? Over-excitement? How ridiculous.  
  
Jiyong shuffles slowly out into the kitchen and finds Hyeong-bae right away. He hands him a plate when he enters and Jiyong takes it sheepishly. The food smells nice and it's hot and Jiyong craves salt but he isn't sure he can keep anything down. He puts the plate down on the counter.  
  
Hyeong-bae won't look him in the eye.  
  
Jiyong understands that. He'd be the same way if their roles were reversed. What else can he do? He's sorry. He didn't mean for it to happen. He doesn’t even know what it was.  
  
He tugs on Hyeong-bae's shirt and pulls him into an embarrassed hug. He's reluctant at first but he softens fast enough. He kisses Jiyong's forehead then feels it with the back of his palm.  
  
'You’re warm. You really are sick,' he says, as though a part of him questioned it.  
  
'I feel okay,' Jiyong answers sheepishly. He pulls back so Hyeong-bae can see his face, so he can try and show him how god damn _sorry_ he is for ruining his birthday. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what happened --- I'm so fucking embarrassed ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles. 'It's okay,' he says. 'When you're sick, you're sick. Great timing though. This has been my most memorable birthday yet'.

  
  
* * *

  
  
  
It's been eight days since Jeju and Jiyong's wanted nothing more in that time than to pick up where they left off pre-sick. Naked and in bed. Unfortunately, he couldn't, or Hyeong-bae wouldn't let him on account of the fever and the delusional rambling Jiyong took fancy to when he was ill.  
  
'When you're better,' Hyeong-bae said. 'We have plenty of time ---'  
  
His patience was infuriating.  
  
But _now_ , Jiyong smiles. _Now_ , he's better. He took his temperature in the kitchen, like he has done the last three days in a row and he's finally back to normal. Unequivocally A-Okay. No Doctor could fault him. 37 degrees. He hasn't had a headache in days, his stomach hasn't hurt since Saturday and he hasn't felt warm since Monday. He's _better._  
  
Hyeong-bae has been shut up in his room all day reading the autobiography of a Japanese architect of all things and Jiyong is starved of attention. He hoped Hyeong-bae would be so eager but he seems perfectly fine, moving about the house ignoring him. The knowledge they could be having sex but _aren't_ doesn't seem to plague him the way it does Jiyong.  
  
At 4pm, Jiyong reaches his absolute limit. There's nothing on television, he can't go to work, no-one is replying to his texts --- He's fed up.  
  
He barges into Hyeong-bae's room on a mission.  
  
With a certain elegance, he climbs onto the bed and on to Hyeong-bae's lap in one smooth motion. He grabs the book right out of his hands and throws it across the room. Japanese architecture, Jiyong thinks. Who fucking cares.  
  
'I was right up to the good bit,' Hyeong-bae says sourly.  
  
Jiyong leans down and kisses him. What good bit? He thinks _. I built a house, it was nice, I built another house, it was nice, I built a building, it was functional and nice._  
  
_'Please_ shut up,' Jiyong whispers between planted kisses. He kisses Hyeong-bae's chin, below his ear, his cheek and then his lips. _He has such nice lips._  
  
He undoes the buttons on Hyeong-bae's shirt until his chest is bare, then breaks the kiss. He's _missed_ this. There's something about being sick, he can't help it. He's always horny after he's sick. It's one of life’s mysteries. Hyeong-bae's lips are red and his cheeks flushed.  
  
'What's this?' he asks.  
  
'I just thought we could pick up where we left off,' Jiyong says. 'Now that I'm officially well again'.  
  
'You did, huh? Who says you're well again?'  
  
Jiyong pulls the thermometer out of his pocket and sticks it under his tongue while undoing the buttons on Hyeong-bae's pants. The thermometer beeps moments later and he shows the reading to Hyeong-bae, who takes it out of his hands with a smile. He dumps it on the bedside table and says, 'In that case'.  
  
He flips them over so Jiyong's beneath him.  
  
Pants are pushed down around knees in a matter of seconds and Jiyong can't get enough of Hyeong-bae's touch, of his hands, his heavy fingers, his lips, his _tongue_ \--- his body aches for it. He _wants_ him --- and then it all goes wrong.  
  
It doesn't seem fair.  
  
They're there again, at the precipice, in the moment before finally doing it --- _at last --_ \- and then he feels it. The ache in his gut and the pounding heart and the tightness in his chest. The same as Jeju. Exactly the same. He can't breathe properly. It hits him so quickly, his whole body shakes. The world spins around him.  
  
_Fuck! What is it?_ Anxiety? Nervousness? It can't be. It's more than that. The feeling is so strong he can't push through it or pretend outwardly it isn't there. He’s better! No fever! No temperature. He can’t blame it this time on being ill because he’s _healthy_.  
  
It takes Hyeong-bae only moments to notice what’s going on.  
  
_'Jiyong ---'_  
  
Hyeong-bae's tone startles him. Jiyong is shaking like a leaf, he can't stop himself. He can't control it, he doesn't know why this is happening. 'I'm sorry,' he says. 'Sorry ---' he just repeats himself over and over again until Hyeong-bae climbs off the bed and puts distance between them.  
  
Jiyong watches him pull his pants back on and he wants to say something but he can't quite breathe properly. He can't get out full sentences and what would he say if he could?  
  
'It _is_ me,' Hyeong-bae says. 'Us doing this makes you _sick_?'  
  
Jiyong bolts upright but regrets it, he sinks straight back down but he tries again. He tries to get off the bed to tell him, _NO, that's not what this is. You? Make me sick? Are you stupid? ---_ but he feels _awful._ The words don't come out.  
  
He tries to think what to say, what he can do --- maybe he's still sick after all? Maybe the thermometer was wrong. Too much, too quickly? There has to be an explanation, a reason for this that can make this better. Hyeong-bae doesn't wait around to hear it either way. He throws on a T-shirt and Jiyong watches him go, face against the mattress until he hears the front door click shut.  
  
He lays there and waits for his body to die.

 

 

*

 

 

  
When Hyeong-bae comes home hours later, Jiyong is waiting for him. He's cross legged on the lounge trying to think of some excuse or explanation that can make this okay. When Hyeong-bae sees him, he pauses and there's a moment where Jiyong could say something, _shoul_ d say something, but when he moves to speak, he can't. He doesn't know what to say. His mind is empty. He can't even think of a lie.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves past him and into his room like a teenage boy. He shuts the door and locks it behind him.

  
  
  
*

  
  
  
A week goes by and they barely communicate. Jiyong wants to but he has nothing to say except _sorry_ and Hyeong-bae doesn't want to hear it.  
  
Sometimes he seems okay again. He'll laugh at something Jiyong's said and smile, then it's like he remembers. He disappears again, inside himself. He doesn't sleep in Jiyong's room. He doesn't eat with him. He moves around the apartment like a ghost.  
  
Jiyong tolerates it for a week and a half before he snaps.  
  
He shoves Hyeong-bae against a wall one night and tells him outright to, 'get over it'.  
  
'It's not what you think,' Jiyong says. 'Stop avoiding me. Stop doing this. You think it's _you_ that made me sick? Are you dumb? You think I'd push the idea or climb on top of you if I didn't want to? On your birthday, I was sick and I'm sorry about that. I really couldn't help it. You think that was you? I had a fever for a week! It was bad timing, that's all. And last week? I don't know what happened. Maybe I was still sick, I don't know but I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what else to tell you, but stop being so stupid. Stop moping around like it's you because it isn't'.  
  
Hyeong-bae sighs at Jiyong's outburst but he doesn't try to escape or move away. He listens to what he has to say.  
  
'I want to have sex with you,' Jiyong says. 'I want it. I wanted it when I first suggested it and I wanted it last week when I went into your room. I still want it. Whatever happened the other day --- It doesn't change that'.  
  
'Jiyong, both times --- you were fine right up until --- the same time, _both_ times'.  
  
He can't get his words out but it's enough. Jiyong feels sorry for him. He can't get his head around the possibility this problem isn't _about_ him. Jiyong tries to explain a hundred times but Hyeong-bae never seems convinced, so he changes tact. He kisses him and between each kiss he tries to reassure him, 'It isn't you, don't be stupid, are you crazy?' until Hyeong-bae kisses him back and when he does, Jiyong sinks to his knees.  
  
He unbuttons Hyeong-bae's pants and he tries to hammer the point home ---  
  
Not like he deserves a blow job for being _stupid_ , but if it helps alleviate his insecurities, Jiyong's happy to do it. He wants things to go back to normal. He wants Hyeong-bae to feel confident again, he wants him to trust him, so he sucks him off and when Hyeong-bae cums, Jiyong swallows for the very first time, even though he _hates_ it. He wants Hyeong-bae to understand. If he can suck his dick and _swallow_ \--- how could he make him sick? Is there really a difference between fucking and sucking someone's dick?  
  
It actually seems to work, to a degree. Hyeong-bae agrees to sleep in Jiyong's bed again, though he sticks to his own side. That small step is enough.  
  
A few days later he's almost back to normal.

 

  
  
  
*

 

  


  
'I don't want to'.  
  
'Why _not_?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Because it will happen again,' Hyeong-bae says. 'Look, what we're doing, it's enough, okay? We don't need to have sex. Obviously, you can't do it, for whatever reason. That's fine. We won't do it. Let’s just leave it at that'.  
  
Jiyong waits a cautious amount of time between their reconciliation and his third attempt to have sex with the guy he _should_ be having sex with _all_ the time. This time though, Hyeong-bae doesn't want to. Jiyong understands. They've finally reached a good point again in their relationship where this crap is mostly behind them. If it happens again. If Jiyong gets sick or, whatever has been happening, _again_ – it could ruin everything.  
  
But it _won't_ happen again, he's sure of it. He's positive the second incident was an extension of the first. He was ill. The bug hadn't left his system yet and the over-excitement made it worse --- _simple._ But that was _weeks_ ago. There's no chance he's ill now. No bug lying dormant, ready to overtake him at the slightest sign of excitement. It isn't going to happen.  
  
Jiyong is so desperate to prove he's right, he _begs_ for it. For the first time in his life, he grovels for sex. It's humiliating but he's so desperate to get it over with, to prove that everything is okay--- for them sleep together and be happy and be a real couple in every sense of the word. He wants them to enjoy each other the way they should be able to.  
  
Eventually, Hyeong-bae relents.  
  
He's warm and soft. He kisses the back of Jiyong's neck and --- it happens again.  
  
Jiyong shakes, he feels it, his chest tightens and his stomach seizes and Hyeong-bae knows _immediately_. He laughs, a malicious almost hysterical laugh and climbs off the bed. He looks angry but above all _humiliated_.  
  
Jiyong is going to be sick. He sits up slowly and covers his mouth. He tries to calm down. He counts to ten. There is a pressure on his chest so heavy he can barely breathe. It feels like he’s suffocating. The ground quakes.  
  
Hyeong-bae gets dressed in silence.  
  
'Hyung’.  
  
Jiyong drags his own pants back up his shaking legs. Hyeong-bae's going to leave after this, he can tell. He can't _let_ him. They have to _talk_ about it. Hyeong-bae's reaction is violent. It takes Jiyong by surprise. He _shouts,_ physically shaken _._  
  
'Don't you _dare_ say sorry to me. I can't listen to another fucking sorry. I told you Jiyong, I fucking _told_ you'.  
  
Jiyong freezes, surprised by the anger in his voice, in his face, in his movements.  
  
'How ….' Hyeong-bae starts. 'What are we supposed to …. ' He looks at Jiyong searchingly but doesn't find whatever he's looking for. He eventually sighs and whispers, _'fuck this'_. He heads down the hallway without another word.  
  
Jiyong is piqued. He scrambles off the bed and hurls a pillow that hits Hyeong-bae square in the back of the head.  
  
'Fuck _you_ ,' he shouts. 'You think I _want_ this to happen?'  
  
Hyeong-bae turns around, face flushed from his anger.

'I don't think anything,' he shouts back. 'All I have are facts. I make you sick. Fact'.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head desperately.  
  
'No you don't! Please, God, after all this time, How could it be you? I suck your dick, I sleep with you, we've--- none of that has ever—' Jiyong pauses. He can't get his words out, he can't think straight. 'I _like_ it! I _like_ being with you, I _want_ to be with you, I _want_ us to fuck!' he shouts, voice broken. 'Don't fucking leave!'  
  
And then a memory hits him. As he pleads, he's taken back. He has said these things before.  
  
Seunghyun.  
  
In his apartment years ago, they were fighting. They were having a fight just like this one, but not quite. Seunghyun tried to leave and Jiyong stopped him. He blurted out that very same shit, 'I _want to be with you, don't leave ---_ '  
  
They were so young. They hadn't slept together yet. He can't remember what they were fighting about but he remembers thinking if they could just fuck and get it over with. If Seunghyun would just agree, then everything would be okay. Sleeping together could solve it. Seunghyun said no though. He left. Jiyong remembers the look on his face and the feeling in his gut when he was left standing there alone.  
  
He suddenly feels ill in a whole new way. It takes him over.

Seunghyun.  
  
_It's Seunghyun._  
  
This is his fault, Jiyong realises. What's happening now. It's his fault he can't fuck Hyeong-bae. It's his _fault._ He can feel it now. He understands his fear and the panic. That's what it is. He isn't _sick,_ it's something else. A panic attack. It's fucking _fear_ \---- not of Hyeong-bae but something else.  
  
It's _him._  
  
Hyeong-bae's turned away but Jiyong watches him. He can't look away. He's staring right at him, into the lines of his face and the 5 o'clock shadow and the flush in his cheeks. Jiyong can't look away from this person he wants to _be_ with. This person who wants to be with him in return. Who wants to ---  
  
What?  
  
Change him. Alter him. Because being fucked will do that, it will change him. It will pave over the one relationship Jiyong let himself believe was fucking preternaturally meaningful. The relationship he clung to even now. If he lets Hyeong-bae fuck him, that will oust Seunghyun for good. The last thing he _has_ that belongs to Seunghyun alone, he'll be giving it to somebody else.

It doesn't matter that their relationship is over, somehow, it doesn't matter. He can't explain it but there's a difference between foreplay and _sex_. Sucking Hyeong-bae's dick is one thing, being fucked by him is another. Seunghyun is the only one who's done that --- _and he wouldn't be any more._  
  
Seunghyun is the only person Jiyong ever trusted implicitly and that's what this is. He's the only person in Jiyong's life he was ever really vulnerable with. He let Seunghyun dominate him. He became submissive --- and he was the _only_ one. Not once in the last 5 months of being with Hyeong-bae has Jiyong ever been what he was with Seunghyun.  
  
If they do this, if he and Hyeong-bae sleep together --- that will change.  
  
Sleeping with Hyeong-bae will somehow devalue what he had with Seunghyun, will devalue years of his life because they wouldn't be special any more, wouldn't be _unique_. The kind of relationship he had with Seunghyun would become 'the first,' instead of 'the only'.  
  
That matters. It shouldn't but it does.  
  
He hasn't been falling ill, he's been scared. To erase Seunghyun. The fear of it took him over so completely he didn't even recognise it. Loyalty. It hits him like a physical blow.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
In Jiyong's silence, Hyeong-bae moves to leave.  
  
'Don't go,' Jiyong asks him. 'Just don't'.  
  
He can't _explain_ but if Hyeong-bae stays, maybe he can think of a convincing lie, one that won't hurt him or their relationship any more than has already been done.  
  
He doesn't get the chance.  
  
Hyeong-bae leaves and the front door clicks shut behind him.

  
  
  
  
*

  
  


He must go back to his own apartment because he doesn't come home in the night. Jiyong waits up for him but falls asleep as the sun comes up. When he wakes in the afternoon, everything is as he left it. Hyeong-bae isn't there.  
  
Jiyong fidgets all day. He can't focus his energy into anything useful so he curls up on the lounge. He turns on the TV and thinks about Seunghyun, about Hyeong-bae, about everything.  
  
Maybe he isn't over Seunghyun. A year isn't a long time, is it? How could he stop loving him so quickly? Maybe Hyeong-bae is just filler. A stopgap between Seunghyun and his next relationship. That's what he was at first, wasn't he? Jiyong liked him as a friend but more than that? No. He only gave them a chance because it was the only way to keep Hyeong-bae around. It was just dumb luck or happenstance that they worked so well together.  
  
The thought makes him miserable. A part of him really believes that; he loves Seunghyun and Hyeong-bae and their whole time together has been his way of pretending otherwise. The last five months and all the time before that has been nothing but a silly diversion.  
  
Jiyong believes that for hours. He believes it until he finds himself in Hyeong-bae's room, sitting on his bed, smelling his pillow --- he _misses_ him.  
  
Hyeong-bae _isn't_ a stopgap. He isn't some childish distraction, some interim relationship until Seunghyun comes back. He's _more_ than that. Jiyong really cares. Too much for some latent loyalty to Seunghyun to ruin their relationship.  
  
He doesn't know how to fix it.  
  
What can he do? Try again? Identifying the problem doesn't mean it goes away. What if it happens again? What if Hyeong-bae doesn't want to give him another chance? He can understand Hyeong-bae's anger. He can't imagine what it would feel like to have someone have a panic attack every time he got close to them.  
  
But it's _not_ closeness, it's just sex. When they fool around, blow each-other, the hand-jobs and everything else, when they sleep together naked, Jiyong really _likes_ those parts of their relationship. More than that, he _wants_ to have sex with him. He wanted to the first time and he's wanted to every other time he's tried.  
  
If he didn't want to do it, he wouldn't have tried. He wouldn't have initiated or encouraged it. So how? How is Seunghyun _doing_ this to him? Twelve months down the line, ruining his life still. Just by existing _somewhere,_ he's found a way of being where he doesn't belong; a way of being in Jiyong's life.

 

  
  
*

  
  
  
At 9pm Hyeong-bae hasn't come home. It's been less than 24 hours so he's hardly a missing person but Jiyong can't _focus_. He couldn't go to work, he can't _think_ \---- so he texts him.  
  
'I know you're mad but write back. Just want to know where u are'.  
  
I want to know that you're okay, Jiyong thinks. That you didn't get into an accident or fall down some stairs and that's why you haven't come home. Jiyong knows where Hyeong-bae is, of course. He'll be sitting on his fold-out couch watching his 32inch TV that doesn't get reception when it rains. Where else would he be? All the same, he has to say _something_ \--- even a stupid question like 'Where are you,' might be enough to spark a conversation, might be enough to remind Hyeong-bae that Jiyong wants him to come home.  
  
The reply comes a few minutes later. One word.   
  
' _Home'._  
  
Hyeong-bae's at his own apartment.  
  
It's just me then, Jiyong thinks. You're not coming home because of _me._

  
  


  
* * *

 

  
  
Hyeong-bae calls three days later to remind him to pick up some dry cleaning and Jiyong's glad he does because he forgot all about it. 'I knew you would,' he says.  
  
It's good to hear his voice.  
  
They talk for a while about little things. They don't talk about the sex thing. Jiyong's not sure what he can say about that either way. All he knows is that he misses Hyeong-bae being there. He wants him to come home, so he says so.  
  
Hyeong-bae changes the subject and Jiyong feels hurt and worried by that but he stays on the line. He lets Hyeong-bae talk about whatever he wants. As long as he's speaking to him, as long as he can hear him.  
  
When the conversation ends, Hyeong-bae says, 'I have to go,' and that's that. Just 'Bye'. No _'I'll see you later,'_ or _'I'll call again soon'_. No promise of anything at all.  
  
After the call, they don't speak for _days_. Jiyong finally goes back to work but he's restless every moment he's there. He has no focus, no drive, he goes through the motions. People keep asking if he's alright until he throws in the towel and leaves early one night. Maybe if I get a good night’s sleep, he thinks, or eat a proper meal --- something he hasn't done since Hyeong-bae left. He can order in. He can sit on the couch with Gaho and get fat on noodles.  
  
When he finally makes it home, Hyeong-bae is waiting for him.  
  
Jiyong's heart starts racing at the sight of him and he feels a pang of relief. He wants to hug him and kiss him and apologise and beg him not to leave again, but he doesn't. Hyeong-bae's face tells him not to. When Hyeong-bae sees him there, he gets up from the couch where he was waiting.  
  
'You went to work?' He asks.  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong answers, dropping his bag onto a chair. He moves sheepishly closer. 'I didn't get much done'.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles sympathetically. He gestures for Jiyong to sit down and he does, though every cell in his body is pulling him away, in the other direction, _don't sit down._  
  
Jiyong sits and Hyeong-bae drags the coffee table closer so he can sit in front of him. Jiyong's stomach begins to hurt. When Hyeong-bae is finished, he's so close their knees are almost touching.  
  
_Oh god_ , he thinks.  
  
Jiyong stares at the faded knee of his jeans. He can't look Hyeong-bae in the face. He knows what this is. The way he moved, the look on his face, this very position.  
  
'Jiyong ---'  
  
That _voice._  
  
'Jesus Christ,' Jiyong whispers, taking his head in his hands. He's breaking up with me, he thinks. After everything, he's breaking up with me and what for? The sex thing? We haven't even talked about it. Hyeong-bae ignores Jiyong's curse and moves closer. His voice grows a little louder in Jiyong's ears.  
  
'These last few months---'  
  
_Fuck!_ Jiyong thinks. This is how it begins? ' _These last few months,'_ how fucking horrible. How fucking cliché to leave someone with a speech beginning with _'these last few months'._ What comes next? He wonders. _'I've had a great time, you've meant a lot to me --- it's not you it's me ---'_. Fuck. _Fuck_.  
  
Jiyong inhales sharply, the prelude to tears. They're breaking up. That's what this is. Hyeong-bae came home to _dump_ him.  
  
Hyeong-bae takes one of Jiyong's hands. He pries it out of his hair, away from his down-turned face and he holds it. Jiyong wants to shake free and _shove_ him or punch him in the face but he doesn't. He stares down at Hyeong-bae's hand, larger than his own. His fingers warm and comforting. This might be the last time he touches them. The last time he feels them on his skin.

He's hardened since Seunghyun. He isn't going to cry but he _wants_ to.  
  
'I like you a lot,' Hyeong-bae says quietly. 'I never thought ---- '  
  
He can't get his words out and Jiyong is grateful for that. He probably planned this speech while Jiyong was at work but now he can't get them out. _Good,_ he thinks. The longer he stumbles over his words, the longer he stays. What will he do without him? After all this time, after everything Hyeong-bae's done for him. How can he sleep in an empty bed?  
  
'I can't ---' Hyeong-bae continues.  
  
Jiyong's body betrays him. A noise escapes him. The product of trying _not_ to make a sound. He shakes his hand free so he can bury his face in his hands. I can't what? He thinks. _'Do this anymore?_ ' Just _say_ it. What is he waiting for?   
  
'Jiyong ---'  
  
Learn how to speak, Jiyong thinks. Jesus Christ, you can't even break up with me properly. You can't even form the sentences to explain yourself. _I'm breaking up with you because I'm a piece of shit, because I can't wait for an explanation, because I can't work out my problems any other way but by walking away from them._ It isn't that hard, Jiyong thinks. Just _say_ it.   
  
He never thought Hyeong-bae could do this. How can he end it without trying to fix the problem? Without trying to make it work? Hyeong-bae's hand finds Jiyong's head and he holds it there at the nape of his neck. A gesture of comfort and Jiyong _breaks_.  
  
'Don't leave,' Jiyong says.  
  
Just talk to me. _Talk to me_.  
  
'Jiyong, I’m ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae's phone rings. It's the same shrill ringtone he's had since Jiyong met him. It breaks up the moment and Jiyong pulls away. He sinks right back into the couch and wraps his arms around his knees.  
  
The phone rings out.  
  
Hyeong-bae hangs his head and scratches at his neck, a nervous tic while he waits for it to stop. While his attention is drawn away, Jiyong looks at him, _really_ looks at him. He's so used to seeing him, he can't imagine what it will be like to wake up without him. To never see him again. To never see his smile, never see his shoulders when he laughs, never see the stubble he grows when he doesn't want to shave.  
  
It isn't _right_. There's no reason for this; no reason why tomorrow morning he can't wake up and see all those things again. There's a silence between them when the phone stops ringing. Jiyong waits for Hyeong-bae to continue with stilted words and half sentences or maybe a full one. Maybe he's pulled himself together now.  
  
The phone rings again. Loud and insistent and _insensitive_.  
  
Jiyong sighs and rubs his eyes with the balls of his palms.  
  
'Answer it,' he says.  
  
Why not? He thinks. Nothing can make this any worse. Let him have his conversation in the middle of their break-up. Why the hell not. He leans his head over the back of the lounge and waits. Hyeong-bae looks apologetic but stands at Jiyong's insistence. He takes the phone out of his pocket and moves to the window. He answers it quietly, 'Hello,' as though any volume wouldn't be heard when Jiyong is three metres away.  
  
Jiyong rolls his head so he can watch him. The light makes his eyes look downcast and his cheeks look sunken in. He feels strange watching him at the window. None of this feels real. When Hyeong-bae hangs up the phone he'll sit down beside him and kick his feet up. They'll watch the tail end of a movie together and go to bed. That's what it feels like.  
  
Hyeong-bae says a quiet, _'what?'_ in a worried tone and Jiyong watches him more closely. He watches him shift his weight from one leg to the other. A minute goes by. He puts a hand on his hip and then around his waist and then back again. Hyeong-bae fidgets. He moves a step and then back, pacing the same three-square feet over and over.  
  
When he turns the right way, Jiyong can see the look on his face. It's bad news. Jiyong suddenly feels anxious. He gets off the lounge and moves closer to him.  
  
'I understand ----,' hyeong-bae says down the phone, and then a more angry and quieter still, 'I said I would, didn't it?'  
  
The call ends.  
  
When Hyeong-bae turns he seems surprised to find Jiyong so close behind him. He looks down at the phone in his hand.  
  
'My grandfather is dying,' he says blankly. 'I have to go see him'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach drops.  
  
'Oh --- I --- _sorry -_ \--- ' He reaches out a tentative hand to take Hyeong-bae's. He doesn't know what else to do.   
  
He's sorry for what's happened. He wants him to be alright. Hyeong-bae squeezes his fingers.  
  
'Thanks,' he says quietly. As though this isn't Jiyong's job, like they're not a couple who are there for each other through the good times _and_ the bad--- but maybe they're not. Hyeong-bae was going to break up with him, wasn't he? Maybe he doesn't consider them together any more, even though he never said the words because he didn't get the chance.  
  
'When do you have to leave?'  
  
'Now,' Hyeong-bae says. He looks confused. Dazed by what's happened. Jiyong wishes he could help him somehow. 'I'll pack some clothes and go'.  
  
'It's really serious then?' Jiyong asks and _obviously_ it is, he feels stupid for saying that. The old man is _dying_ , that's pretty fucking serious, but he meant something else. 'I mean … he might … go … _tonight_?'  
  
Hyeong-bae nods. 'Yeah. They don't think he'll make it through the night'.  
  
Jesus, Jiyong thinks. No-one in his family has ever died before. No distant relatives, no grandparents, they're all still alive. He's never experienced a death before, except Daul's and she was only a friend of a friend. That was the only glimpse of death he'd ever had.

  
  
  


*

 

 

  
'Do you want me to come with you?' Jiyong asks.  
  
It's a stupid thing to ask, he knows, but a part of him wants Hyeong-bae to say yes. A part of him wants to be needed, for Hyeong-bae to acknowledge he's necessary. Jiyong knows what his answer will be but he asks anyway, hoping.  
  
'I don't need you there,' he says. Not a simple no but something more specific. Something sharper. _I don't need you._ He shoves a pair of pants in his bag and adds, 'I don't want them to know about you, _or_ me. The less they know about my life the better'.  
  
When he looks his way, Jiyong offers a weak smile to show he understands. Not going with him is logical. It's the smart choice. It doesn't stop the ache in his gut. The unhappiness and the uncertainty. Logical or not, this situation could equally be, ' _we're breaking up, of course I don't want you there'_.  
  
Hyeong-bae sees the look on his face and stops packing. He sits down and gestures for Jiyong to join him. Against his better judgement, he does. It's the couch all over again. Hyeong-bae says, 'come hither,' and Jiyong comes.  
  
Hyeong-bae takes his hand.  
  
'I _want_ you there,' he says quietly. 'It's just not possible. I don't want you near my family, Jiyong. I don't want them to know about us. Even if I could take you, what would I say? I can't'.  
  
'I know'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't state the obvious. There are ways for him to go without meeting Hyeong-bae's family. He couldn't meet them anyway. _Hi there, family of my gay boyfriend. Maybe you've seen me on TV?_  
  
He could stay in a hotel. Being close by for support would be enough. He doesn't need to be at the old man's bedside, at the funeral or the wake. To simply be nearby if he was needed? Hyeong-bae has to know that's an option. He just doesn't want to take it.  
  
Jiyong wants to ask outright if Hyeong-bae was dumping him before the call. If the hurt on his face and the tone in his voice was him saying goodbye and cutting ties. A part of him wonders if he'll come back after this trip. Maybe he'll say, _'see you next week,_ ' and never come back.  
  
Jiyong looks at their joined hands and begins to ask when Hyeong-bae cuts him off.  
  
'I have to pack,' he says. He unravels their hands and Jiyong sinks momentarily as the mattress dips at the loss of his weight.  
  
He feels sorry for himself.  
  
If Hyeong-bae never comes back, that's what he's going to remember. Not all these months they've been together but that feeling, the way the mattress bounced as he lifted off the bed. The physical repercussion of someone leaving.  
  
Jiyong doesn't say any more, he doesn't have the heart. He moves to the far corner and watches Hyeong-bae pack. Four pairs of pants, five shirts, two pairs of shoes, a jacket, pyjamas, briefs. It's not enough to start a new life, but Jiyong wonders all the same. Is there anything in this apartment Hyeong-bae couldn't bear to leave behind? If he takes it with him, what does that mean?  
  
He can't think what possessions are really valuable to him. He's not that kind of guy. After Hyeong-bae was disinherited, he learned to live frugally. He could live out of a suitcase if he had to. There was nothing precious to him except time. There was nothing Jiyong could check on after Hyeong-bae was gone to know if he was coming back for it.  
  
Hyeong-bae zips his bag up and looks around the room, wondering the same thing Jiyong is. Has he forgotten anything? Is there anything he can't live without? His gaze falls on specific items in the room but he doesn't take anything.   
  
When he's done, he turns and Jiyong looks away.   
  
He's tired of this game, of being left and broken and being so god damn reliant on other people for his happiness. If he could only be self-sufficient again, this wouldn't happen over and _over._ He wouldn't _lose_ people.  
  
Hyeong-bae probably hasn't eaten all day. Jiyong feels bad for him, for what's happened to him. He should feed him. There has to be something in the fridge or in the cupboard that he can take with him. It's a long drive for this time of night. He should be fed at least.  
  
Hyeong-bae meets him half-way to the kitchen and turns him around with a gentle hand around his arm but Jiyong can't look him in the eyes. He turns away. He shakes free of his grip and keeps moving.  
  
'I'm going to find you some food,' Jiyong says, brushing him off, 'You probably haven't eaten today. You'll get hungry on the drive'.  
  
'Jiyong’.  
  
'You get tired when you haven't eaten. You'll fall asleep half-way there'.  
  
'I can get something to eat on the way'.  
  
'You won't. I'll make you something. Just wait five minutes'.  
  
'Jiyong ----'  
  
Jiyong pulls open the fridge and scans the shelves. He talks through the door;  
  
'The roads are dangerous this time of night. Don't read any texts or start daydreaming'.  
  
_'Jiyong ----'_  
  
Hyeong-bae takes his arm and pulls him back from the kitchen in one gentle sweep. Jiyong turns his head away like a child. Hyeong-bae doesn't say anything but Jiyong feels his eyes boring a hole through his skull. Before he can stop it or get himself together, a tear rolls down his cheek. _Fuck._  
  
Hyeong-bae makes a quiet sound.  
  
'Why are you ---'  
  
He wipes the wet trail from Jiyong's cheek and kisses him gently on the forehead.  
  
'I'll be back in a week,' he says quietly.  
  
Jiyong nods, though he only half believes it. Even if he does come back, what happens then? The second half of their unfinished conversation that began with, _'I think we need to talk?'_  
  
If that's what lies ahead, why come back at all? Why not leave the way Seunghyun left, with a hug and a kiss and a quiet retreat. Let this be the end of it.  
  
'Fine, yeah,' Jiyong whispers, pushing him gently away. 'I know that'.  
  
He shrugs Hyeong-bae off and turns back to the fridge. There's kimbap on the top shelf but it's been there two days. There might be enough laying here and there to make more. He crouches down and opens a few drawers.  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't speak again until he leaves, bag and packed dinner in tow. He thanks Jiyong quietly and then he's gone. Jiyong calls out after him, 'If you need anything or you want to talk or --- anything. Call me?'  
  
_Please call._

 

 

 

*

 

 

  
I'll be back in a week, he said, so Jiyong behaves as though he believes that. One week. Seven measly days. That's nothing.  
  
He goes to work.  
  
If he goes to work every day of the week, the time will pass quicker. He'll be distracted, he won't be staring at a clock wondering what _'a week,'_ really means. He hits the studios at 8am and he comes home at 11pm. He eats when he feels sick from hunger and he sleeps like the dead.  
  
He takes his phone everywhere, waiting for a call he doesn't really expect will ever come. His cell phone never rings and when he gets home, the flashing light on the answering machine never gives him what he wants. Messages from his mother, friends, work stuff. Never Hyeong-bae. He wonders where he is and if he's alright. He wonders if his grandfather died after all and if he died peacefully or in pain.  
  
Jiyong spends his days going from one thing to another with little thought. He functions in a state of _wait_ and little else. He doesn't have the good judgement to know if anything he's doing in the studio is worthwhile or any good, but he continues because what else can he do? He's spent enough time over the last year wallowing away from society.  
  
He realises in Hyeong-bae's absence, he can wallow and function at the same time. He works, he sleeps, he eats, he works, he sleeps, he works, _he works_ , _he_ **_works_** and one night at work, the phone rings.  
  
He can’t say why he thinks it's Hyeong-bae at long last, but he does. Something in him tells him to answer it --- it's important.  
  
'Hyung?'  
  
'Huh? No ---'  
  
It isn't Hyeong-bae. It's Seungri.  
  
'Oh, _hey --_ -'  
  
Jiyong sinks back down on the couch. He kicks his feet up and covers his eyes. The light on the ceiling is blinding.  
  
'Don't sound so disappointed!' Seungri says.  
  
'No, I was just expecting somebody else. What's up?'  
  
'I guess you've talked to him already'.  
  
Jiyong crosses his legs at the ankles and tries to move the pillow behind his head to cushion his neck better.  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Seunghyun-hyung'.  
  
'What? Why would I?'  
  
Jiyong's heart thuds for attention at the mention of his name. It annoys him.  
  
'He's back from Japan. You said hyung when you answered the phone, and sounded weird. I figured ---'  
  
Jiyong sits up so fast he loses his grip on the phone and it bounces around his grasping hands for ten seconds before he catches it again. That's the last thing he needs, to drop it and break the fucking thing, now of all times.  
  
He presses the phone back against his ear and Seungri is still speaking. Fuck, _fuck!_ What has he missed? What was he saying in those ten seconds he couldn't hear him?  
  
'---- been back for a week. I didn't know. I wondered if you knew or if he just flew in like a secret agent, under the radar. That seems to be his style nowadays'.  
  
Jiyong clutches at his chest and he thanks God he's alone. He can barely breathe.  
  
_He's back_.  
  
'How?' Jiyong asks quietly, trying to sound composed. 'How do you know he's back? Did you talk to him?'  
  
Seungri's answer _breaks_ him.  
  
'Yeah. I ran right into him today. I didn't know he was coming back. I haven't heard from him in about a month and there he was in the hallway. He seemed okay'.  
  
Jiyong stands abruptly. He's not even conscious of moving. He's physically pulled from the couch and across the room in an instant. He starts pacing. His heart pounds so violently in his chest, he can hardly think straight.  
  
Ran into him? Physically saw him in the flesh? Where? The hallway? And a month? Haven't heard from him in a month? _That's all?_ Jiyong's free hand balls into a fist.  
  
'The hallway _where?'_ he asks slowly.  
  
'At work,' Seungri answers. 'I came in to pick something up and he was just there ---'  
  
'When?' Jiyong asks, cutting him off. 'What time?'  
  
He's been at work all day and Seungri's saying what? That while he was up here in the studio, Seunghyun was downstairs? A hundred metres away?  
  
'About lunch time,' Seungri says cautiously. 'I guess 12 maybe?'  
  
Jiyong inhales sharply and sits down by the mixing board. He rests his head in his hand.  
  
Twelve. He was _there ---_ It breaks his heart, _he could have seen him,_ could have _spoken_ to him, _could have ---_ but wait. A month, Seungri said. He hadn't spoken to Seunghyun in _a month._  
  
'Wait, you _talked_ to him?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Yeah, we had a quick chat I guess. He seemed busy. He was talking to some guy in a suit'.  
  
'No, when he was in _Japan_ , you talked to him?'  
  
'Yeah, sometimes. Not that often,' Seungri answers gently. As if to make Jiyong feel better somehow by playing their communication down. He says, 'Once or twice a month,' as though that's nothing --- as though they're strangers when Jiyong, he hasn't heard from Seunghyun in how long? He doesn't know any more. Twelve months? He can't think. It's his birthday in a fortnight, so a year --- a whole _year_ minus 14 days.  
  
'And he's been back for a week?' Jiyong questions. 'A whole week?'  
  
'That's what he said'.  
  
'And you spoke to him on the phone once or twice a month for _how_ long? The past year? Since he left?'  
  
'I think so,' Seungri answers warily.  
  
After that, Jiyong loses the will to speak. He barely makes it back to the lounge. The feeling drains from his legs until he's nothing but a chest, a ribcage, a heart pounding and a churning gut.  
  
The whole time he was away, Seungri spoke to him. Seunghyun _spoke_ to Seungri but wouldn't speak to him, his … his _what?_ What _were_ they to each-other? What were they ever? Boyfriends? Fuck, what a stupid term. Jiyong thought they were in love and well _love_ , that transcends _'boyfriends,'_ doesn't it? That denotes a sort of crush or fledgling relationship and he and Seunghyun, they weren't a fledgling couple, they were _more_ than that. To him at least.  
  
What were they to Seunghyun that he could do this to him? That he could leave without a word and speak to others but never him. It brought Jiyong some consolation to assume Seunghyun cut ties with everybody, not just himself, but that wasn't true. It was him and him alone cut out of Seunghyun's life. If he asks around how many people will say they spoke to Seunghyun while he was away? How many people got to hear Seunghyun's voice while Jiyong was drinking himself numb without him?  
  
Jiyong wondered sometimes how they would finally meet again, after all, intellectually he knew it had to happen some day. He wondered how he'd find Seunghyun after all that time --- and it was _this?_ A casual phone call, a few glib unknowing words and that's it. Unglamorous, harsh reality.  
  
Seunghyun is back, has _been_ back --- and he hasn't called. He hasn't come over --- he hasn't made any attempts to see or speak to him.  
  
Maybe he never will.  
  
Maybe they will see each-other in the halls at work. What will they say after all this time? Will Seunghyun ignore him even then? How far will it go? Maybe Jiyong will snap at the sight of his face, punch him and spit on him for being such an unforgivable prick, for destroying his self-esteem, for taking months of his life away from him while he sat at home drinking and pining for him --- for Seunghyun, who just didn't give a fuck.  
  
Jiyong feels anger well up inside him. His hands shake. His throat burns. Before he can stop himself or pull the phone away, a noise escapes him. A noise of hurt, a quiet exhalation --- a half-sob, half breathless cry for help.  
  
Seungri hears but doesn't say anything and Jiyong's grateful. He tries to swallow it all down so he can speak with a clear voice, so he can be assertive and direct and glib in the face of this information --- but he can't. He can't say goodbye to Seungri or end this conversation without showing all his cards, without every bit of his emotion pouring out of him, so he hopes Seungri forgives him and he simply hangs up.  
  
It takes only moments for him to fall apart.  
  
He throws his phone clear across the room. It hits the wall and then the floor with a loud crack.  
  
Jiyong closes himself in the recording booth and _screams._ A rough and primal rage pours out of him and he can't stop it. He can't think, there's nothing _but_ rage. Full blown _agony_.  
  
He lashes out. He picks up the stool and throws it at the wall. He picks it back up and smashes it against the floor until it snaps in half and the legs fall off one by one. He beats it against the ground and _screams_ until he has no energy left and he sinks to the floor, deflated.  
  
He covers his face with his hands and he cries.  
  
He cries until he _can't_ any more.

 

  
*

 

  
An hour later, he's in the car because Seunghyun is probably home by now --- _his_ home, a home they used to share together. He's probably there sitting on the couch Jiyong used to sit on beside him, that he _slept_ on --- the couch where he got his first stupid hand-job, where he made memories that _mattered_ to him.  
  
Maybe Seunghyun's in the Kitchen. Maybe he's staring at the bench where he left his phone 12 months ago, wondering ' _where did that thing go?'_  
  
Maybe he's in bed --- the bed they shared together, slept in, fucked in, _loved_ each other in ---  
  
It doesn't matter where he is in that apartment because Jiyong has been there. In every corner, every inch. There isn't a space in that apartment Jiyong hasn't touched or found some happiness in, and Seunghyun is there now, most likely --- ousting all their good memories just by being there.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what he's going to do, only that he's in the car and on the road before he can really comprehend it, before he can understand the urge or the direction he's going.  
  
It doesn't take long to reach the apartment. He parks across the street from Seunghyun's building and sits in his car, staring up at those familiar windows lit up.  
  
Seunghyun _is_ home.  
  
For the first time in almost a year, the love of Jiyong's life is finally within his reach. He has been there for _days_ and he didn't know. Jiyong watches those small high windows with his head resting on the car window, his seatbelt still on. He doesn't know what to do.  
  
He wants desperately to go up to that door and knock --- to force his way in --- to do _something_. After months of inaction he has a primal urge to act. But, how can he? Seunghyun tossed him aside and when he finally returned made zero attempts to see him. Jiyong lives in the same place, has the same number --- It wouldn't be hard.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't want him.  
  
Jiyong doesn't want him either, not really --- not after everything, but he wants _something_. An explanation --- comfort --- closure. He wants to hurt Seunghyun. He wants --- _so many things._  
  
Love.  
  
He wants love. The kind of love he felt when he and Seunghyun were together. That's what he wants most of all, more than revenge or closure or an apology, he just wants to be loved again, the way he felt loved before everything went wrong.  
  
He wants the past.  
  
Jiyong gets out of the car and dodges a set of headlights or two while making his way across the street. He punches in the code to Seunghyun's outer gate and then the second --- twenty two stairs up and then he's there.  
  
The door.   
  
The one remaining physical barrier between them. If he presses his ear to the door, maybe he could hear him.  
  
Jiyong's seen the door since Seunghyun's disappearance. He's seen it a lot actually. He'd sometimes drop by if he was in the area or when he felt down --- he'd clean the place up a bit. Dust furniture and the like. He couldn't say why. Sometimes doing that allowed him to breathe. The part of him that wasn't an asshole thought one day Seunghyun _would_ come home and it was better to return to a clean apartment than one covered over with dust.  
  
He wonders if Seunghyun appreciated that when he got back. Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe he has no conception of how dirty things become over time, unused.  
  
Jiyong wonders suddenly if he's in there alone. Maybe Seunghyun met someone while he was away. Maybe they're in there with him right now, metres away, doing things he and Jiyong used to do together.  
  
Jiyong reaches into his pocket and fingers what's inside.  
  
He brought it for _whatever_ happened.  
  
If he knocked and Seunghyun refused to answer, he was going to use it to barge in, but now? Jiyong pulls the key out of his pocket and his fingers brush over the ridges. Seunghyun's key. The spare in case Jiyong forgot the key card or the code. There was a multitude of ways to get through Seunghyun's front door but this was Jiyong's favourite. He'd never used it, not once in his life, but when Seunghyun gave it to him? It was a gesture. It was meaningful.  
  
They'd been together for a while but things were still uncertain, undefined. Seunghyun pulled him aside one day and gave him a key. Just like that. No fuss. He said, _'You can come here whenever you want, bring whatever you want over here. This place is ours instead of, well --- mine. It was always a little bit yours'._  
  
It was so _stupid_. Jiyong laughed at the time. It was such a soppy romantic thing to say but Jiyong realised he meant it. The look on his face --- Seunghyun was just like that. Jiyong kept the key on him all the time. It lived in his wallet. It was the photograph he couldn't carry around with him. He couldn't very well keep a couples portrait tucked away, but a key --- that was the same thing. He looked at that key and saw Seunghyun. He was _reminded_ of him.  
  
How can he use this key? He forgot he even had it. He's been seeing Hyeong-bae for months and all this time, even on their dates and on their romantic getaway --- _all that time,_ this key was still sitting in his wallet.  
  
Somehow, talking to Seungri, hearing Seunghyun was back, it reminded him. He reached into his wallet and there it was, where it had always been.  
  
Jiyong takes a step closer and rests his forehead on the door. He fancies he can hear Seunghyun inside, hear a tap running in the kitchen, but he can't. The door is sound-proof. Seunghyun would have to be screaming for Jiyong to hear him out here.  
  
It works both ways.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes, forehead pressed against the door.  
  
'Why didn't you call me?' he asks. He isn't quiet. He speaks his normal volume because Seunghyun can't hear him. Even metres away, he can't hear it. 'How could you come back and not call me?'  
  
Jiyong's chest aches and his voice breaks while he speaks. He feels broken. A tear runs down his cheek and he _hates_ himself for it. For a moment, it’s like the past twelve months have been inconsequential. It’s as if Seunghyun walking out the door happened only last week. The pain resurfaces in Jiyong so quickly, it is cruel. His heart is broken.  
  
'I have your key,' he says. 'I forgot I still had it but I do'. He looks at it, between his fingers. 'I remember when you gave it to me. I already knew I loved you. I didn't say it for months after that but when you gave me this key,' he says, 'I wanted to'.  
  
He wipes the tears from his cheeks.  
  
'I loved you,' Jiyong cries, breath hitching. 'I really _loved_ you. I would have done _anything_ for you. I thought you felt the same’.  
  
He covers his face with his hands and cries like a child and he hates himself more with every second. He wants to scream and rage and hit the buzzer so he can _see_ Seunghyun, so he can knock him on his ass and beat him senseless.  
  
It takes Jiyong a few minutes and a little help from the cold night air to calm down.  
  
He clutches the key so tightly it digs into his skin.  
  
'Now _,_ ' he says, quietly. 'You're going to stay away from me. Keep ignoring me. Don't call me, don't come to my house, don't speak to me at work unless other people are around. Be a ghost,' Jiyong says. 'So I can have a life with somebody else because that's what I _deserve_ \--- '  
  
Jiyong crouches down, his knee cracking in the cold, his joints stiff. He brings the key to his lips and kisses it. He says goodbye to all the memories and the clinging on and the gestures and the words and the _'I love you's'_. He kisses the key and tucks it under the door. Not so far under that it can be seen from inside, just enough that Seunghyun will find it when he next opens the front door.  
  
'Fuck you,' Jiyong whispers.

 

  
*

 

 

 

He wakes days later to a loud thud coming from the lounge room. There's a low voice and then another thud. Gaho's ears prick up and then, a moment later, he jumps off the bed and races out towards the noise.  
  
It's 4am.  
  
Jiyong is terrified ---- for himself but mostly for Gaho. He quietly slips out of bed and moves gingerly to the door. There aren't any lights on in the apartment, he can't see but the front door is closed. There's enough light coming through the curtains that he can see the back of the door.  
  
Jiyong holds his breath and makes it half way across the room to the light switch, realising only too late that he's empty handed. What's he going to do if there's a murderer in the apartment? Hope flicking the light on sends them scurrying away like a creature of the night or a cockroach?   
  
Gaho hasn't barked or yelped. That's the solitary thing keeping Jiyong from pissing his pants in fear. Maybe the noise came from outside, not inside like he thought. He holds it off until he can't any more, until he starts seeing shadows in the dark and flinches at nothing. He finds the light switch and flicks it on, ready for anything, except the hunched over body by the kitchen island.  
  
He nearly vomits his heart right out of his chest. For a few seconds, he's genuinely _terrified_ \--- until he sees who it is.  
  
'You're back,' Jiyong says, hand over his chest. His voice comes out in a pale squeak. 'You _scared_ me. Fuck'.  
  
Hyeong-bae is crouched down in the kitchen, rubbing behind Gaho's ears. He looks tired and he hasn't shaved. Not since he left, by the looks of it. His hair is mussed and his clothes wrinkled. He looks like a mess. Hyeong-bae smiles briefly and plants a kiss on Gaho's forehead. He doesn't look Jiyong's way.  
  
'Sorry. It was too late to call. I didn't want to wake you. I thought I could slip in unnoticed but I tripped over some shit on my way in'.  
  
Yeah, Jiyong thinks, and you scared the shit out of me. Just call next time.  
  
'How did it go?' he asks, quietly. 'Did your grandfather … '  
  
'No'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's tone is unreadable. He stands up and cricks his neck.  
  
'He's still alive, much to everyone's chagrin. He even woke up for a time on Wednesday and told my mother to fuck herself. Then me'.  
  
He sees the look of surprise on Jiyong's face.  
  
'My family is complicated'.  
  
'Chagrin? You wanted him to die?'  
  
'We did,' Hyeong-bae nods. 'Well. Not me personally, but mostly everyone. That's not to say I wanted him to live. I didn't care either way'.  
  
His words are surprising. They make Jiyong uncomfortable. Hyeong-bae is acting strange, drunk almost but Jiyong can tell he isn't; Incredibly _tired_ maybe.  
  
'That's not true,' Jiyong says. He saw the look on Hyeong-bae's face after he got the call. He was dazed. He was _concerned_.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs bitterly.  
  
‘Jiyong, you have no idea. You're so naive and innocent’.  
  
'Yeah? What are you?'  
  
_'_ Me? I act like a nice guy but on the inside ….'  
  
'You _are_ a nice guy,' Jiyong answers coldly.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves to get a glass of water.   
  
'Yeah,' he says derisively, like that isn't true at all.  
  
But it is. Jiyong _knows_ him. He doesn't know what else to say.  
  
Hyeong-bae drinks his water and runs a hand through his hair. He tells Jiyong the cliff notes about his family, or how they lost their money anyway. How that's what caused the problems between them all. What caused the _rift._ While Hyeong-bae's parents lost everything, his grandfather kept the bulk of his estate. When they asked for his help, he refused. He's rich, they're poor. Hyeong-bae makes it all sound so neat and tidy and succinct but none of it makes sense. There's a lot he isn't saying. Jiyong remembers Hyeong-bae's family as being pretty ordinary. They were nice enough people. Hyeong-bae once told him he’d been disinherited. He doesn’t mention that now. He doesn’t mention what he did that ostracised him from the others.  
  
'It's always money,' Hyeong-bae says, staring into his glass. 'My parents think he's clinging on to life to spite them. They don't know he's taken us out of the will. He's giving half his money to the housekeeper and the other half to charity. We won't get anything'.  
  
'Jesus,' Jiyong whispers. 'How do you know that?''  
  
'He told me,' Hyeong-bae says quietly. 'I wanted to tell my parents but I want it to be a surprise. I want to see the looks on their faces when they find out. I guess I'll have to wait a little longer'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's face contorts every time he mentions his parents. His tone changes as if he _hates_ them.  
  
'Why would he _tell_ you that?'  
  
'To punish me,' Hyeong-bae says. 'It doesn't matter'.  
  
Punish you for what? Jiyong thinks, but his questions go unasked. Hyeong-bae rubs his eyes and seems to snap out of his sharing mood. Jiyong sees the walls go up inside him. He's not sure what to say any more. He's not sure what to do.  
  
Whatever happened to Hyeong-bae while he was away, it's broken him. Jiyong's never seen him like this --- so down on himself. So negative --- not in their most difficult moments together.  
  
'Come to bed?' Jiyong asks.  
  
It's not much but it's something. Hyeong-bae looks surprised, but he says, 'why not?' in that same dry tone. It's almost malicious, _scathing_ \--- but not towards Jiyong. Towards _himself_. It's self-deprecating --- it's self- _loathing._  
  
Jiyong wonders what happened to make him feel this way about himself. What about his family can do this to him?  
  
He wants him to feel better.  
  
He guides Hyeong-bae into the bedroom and closes the door behind them. Gaho can sleep in the lounge-room. Now that Hyeong-bae's back, Jiyong wants to be alone with him. He helps Hyeong-bae get his pants and shirt off and when Hyeong-bae hits the bed, he groans, like he hasn't slept on a proper mattress in 10 years.  
  
Jiyong climbs in after him and rolls onto his side so he can watch him. He missed Hyeong-bae. He's worried about him. They were in trouble when he left, he knows that. Jiyong only half expected him to come back. He didn't expect warm smiles or a kind embrace when he returned. Now that he's back, there's something about him that's changed. Different somehow and _not_ because of Jiyong or the state of their relationship but something that happened to him while he was away. He looks miserable and Jiyong wishes he could fix it.  
  
He shuffles closer until he's pressed against Hyeong-bae's side. He seems surprised but Hyeong-bae stretches an arm out so Jiyong can get comfortable. He rests his chin on the top of Jiyong's head like he used to. It's comforting. Maybe it's comforting for Hyeong-bae too. _Routine._  
  
Jiyong lets Hyeong-bae's breathing slow to normal. His heart beat settles into a slow rhythm, almost into sleep, slow and measured. He can feel it through his chest. He should let him sleep. He obviously needs it but maybe he'd sleep better if ---  
  
Jiyong moves his arm from Hyeong-bae's waist down to palm his dick through his briefs. Hyeong-bae makes a quiet sound but doesn't resist. Jiyong can feel the warmth through the fabric and he's filled with longing, to go back in time, before things went wrong --- back when doing this came with jokes and smiles and Hyeong-bae's commanding laugh. He wants Hyeong-bae to feel better, for whatever is troubling him to ease off and maybe, if he does a good enough job, change his mind; about Jiyong, about _leaving._  
  
He massages his dick with the base of his palm until he feels Hyeong-bae harden beneath his hand. He still hasn't protested so Jiyong rolls the blankets down enough to tug Hyeong-bae's briefs down around his knees. He lifts his hips so Jiyong can get them down.

Jiyong doesn't look him in the face to make sure this is okay, to know how he's responding. He hasn't said no, that's enough.  
  
Jiyong scoots down the bed and leans forward, taking Hyeong-bae in his mouth. Small tentative licks around the head and Jiyong takes him in as far as he'll go --- lips slick and wet, he blows him.  
  
Hyeong-bae groans quietly. He throws a forearm over his eyes. Seunghyun used to do that. Jiyong never asked why. Is it a good thing or a bad thing to cover your face? Maybe it's neither.  
  
With each bob of his head, the heat migrates into his own body. He twists and jerks his palm around Hyeong-bae's length, drags light nails across the underside of his balls and further down --- he does what Hyeong-bae likes.  
  
At the same time, he cups himself with his free hand, fingers down the waistband of his own boxers. While he touches Hyeong-bae, while he sucks the head of his cock and licks tentatively from the base on up --- he takes himself in hand with quiet measured strokes.  
  
Hyeong-bae's quiet sounds spur him on. His breathing become heavy and ragged. When it sounds like he might be getting close, when his balls pull tight beneath Jiyong's fingertips and his hips cant off the bed every few seconds, Jiyong pulls away. His lips are warm and swollen, his face flushed, he brushes the hair out of his eyes and sits back.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks down to see why he stopped. Jiyong runs a finger over his bottom lip. They're wet with pre-cum. He can taste it on his tongue --- Hyeong-bae was too close.  
  
'Close your eyes,' Jiyong says. 'Don't open them until I say so. _Please_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't say anything in response but he does what Jiyong says. He closes his eyes and the forearm returns to shield them. The position emphasises the muscle in Hyeong-bae's arms, the definition in his biceps and Jiyong cups himself again.  
  
He wants this. He wants _him_. He wants him to stay, he wants them to have some kind of life together but if Hyeong-bae wants to leave him, Jiyong can't stop him. Maybe doing this will change his mind and maybe it won't. Worst case scenario, Jiyong has this night to remember him by and for Hyeong-bae to remember him in return. If nothing else, he wants Hyeong-bae to feel better, just for a little while.  
  
Jiyong rolls onto his back and pulls his boxers off, throwing them off the bed. He fishes out a condom and some lube from the bedside table and dumps them next to Hyeong-bae's hip. He throws a leg over him, straddling his thighs. Hyeong-bae jolts in surprise but doesn't move his arm. He doesn't look.  
  
Jiyong flips the cap and squeezes a little lube into one of his palms before warming it up between his hands. Hyeong-bae clears his throat and Jiyong takes Hyeong-bae’s cock in his hand again. His left hand massages his balls, fingers pressing and smoothing over his perineum. His right hand rolls over the head of his cock, his palm moving over and around in small circles.  
  
Hyeong-bae groans and his lips part --- his mouth hangs open. Jiyong hears every sudden inhale and every slow and shaky exhale. They guide his movements, every touch and blow, each warm breath from parted lips ghosting over Hyeong-bae's heated flesh.  
  
Jiyong dials it back to his left hand only and uses his right on himself. He slides his fingertips between his cheeks, runs his middle finger over tight muscle and pushes in. One finger is easy, one finger is nothing but he needs more lube for the second.  
  
It's uncomfortable and his movements are hampered by his position and by trying to keep up a rhythm with Hyeong-bae at the same time, but it doesn't take long. The second finger slides in easier and Jiyong finds a rhythm for them together --- Hyeong-bae in his left hand, himself in the right.  
  
His own breathing begins quietly to measure Hyeong-bae's, ragged and heavy --- his own dick aches between his leg, pooling heat and a tightness in his balls.  
  
He's hard. It's now or never.  
  
Jiyong sits back down and wipes both hands on the sheets either side of him so he can grip the condom wrapper. He tears off the top with his teeth.  
  
Hyeong-bae jolts at the sound. His forearm leaves his face in an instant and he props himself up on his elbows. He looks Jiyong straight in the eyes but doesn't say anything. He looks him up and down, from his face to his cock between his legs to the condom in his hand.  
  
He doesn't _say_ anything.  
  
Jiyong takes Hyeong-bae in hand, breaking eye contact. He rolls the condom on him. Hyeong-bae's thighs twitch and his stomach clenches. Jiyong can see that, even in the dark. He wonders if he's nervous or excited or neither? He doesn't stop him, at any rate.  
  
Jiyong moves up Hyeong-bae's body, a little higher up and tugs the pillows from beneath his head so he can lay flat against the mattress. He can sit on him more comfortably now.  
  
'Do you still want this?' Jiyong asks. His hands move over Hyeong-bae's chest, mapping every dip and curve, every muscle. Hyeong-bae doesn't answer but nods his consent, his agreement, his affirmation. He doesn't speak. He looks startled, like he's not sure what's real and what isn't. Maybe he's just surprised Jiyong has made it this far without feeling ill.  
  
Jiyong takes a quiet measured breath and gets back up on his knees. Does he want to look at Hyeong-bae while he does this or not? What does he want? Will he look him in the eyes or will he hide behind his arm?  
  
Jiyong reaches behind him and takes Hyeong-bae's cock in hand. He sinks down a little lower until he can feel the head against his skin and manoeuvres into the right position. He takes a slow, shaky exhale, lines himself up and as he slowly inches down, he looks Hyeong-bae in the eyes.  
  
He can't hold his gaze very long. It's been a whole year since someone ---- since he's done it _even to himself_. He's so tight, he can feel the stretch and the discomfort and the heat, almost the burn of it. He closes his eyes and focusses on his breathing, on relaxing --- It takes a full minute to get himself fully seated and when he does, he clutches Hyeong-bae's stomach. He lets out a long-held breath.  
  
He stays there, still, breathing carefully until he adjusts.  
  
Warm heavy hands cover his own and Jiyong opens his eyes to Hyeong-bae holding his hands --- Jiyong looks him in the eyes and he looks like his old self again --- there's a glint in his eye. Kindness, caring, desire.  
  
'Does it hurt?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong smiles and raises himself a little then back down, tiny movements until he gets used to the feeling.  
  
'No,' he answers truthfully. 'It's just … different. I just need a minute …'  
  
Jiyong moves his hand from under Hyeong-bae's and flips it around. He laces their fingers together. Hyeong-bae squeezes his hand and Jiyong bites his lip. He missed him. He missed him _so much_.  
  
Jiyong moves again, slow movements, tiny rolls of the hip --- back and forth until he moves a little easier, a little freer. He lifts up then sinks back down with a roll of the hips. Hyeong-bae groans and his eyes close. His head falls back into the mattress and Jiyong smiles, letting out a careful measured breath.  
  
Hyeong-bae cants his hips a little and Jiyong lets out a quiet, _'fuck,'_ that spurs him on. When he's sure Jiyong can take it, he does it again---  
  
Jiyong shifts his weight and leans back. _He needs ---_  
  
'Hyung,' he whispers, hips rolling back, 'Touch me’.  
  
Jiyong reaches down and takes his dick in hand. His eyes close. His fingers tighten around himself --- 'It'll feel so much better if ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae swats his hand out of the way and takes Jiyong's cock, playing with him the way Jiyong likes. He's half soft from the initial discomfort but it doesn't take long. Hyeong-bae finds a good rhythm, his hand heavy and warm and _tight_ and Jiyong is hard again --- it feels good now. _All_ of it. The discomfort is gone ---  
  
It just feels _good._  
  
Jiyong moans quietly. He leans forward so Hyeong-bae can get a better angle when he cants his hips --- and it's ---  
  
'That's perfect,' Jiyong whispers, leaning forward, fingers gripping the sheets and it _is._  
  
It surprises him how good it really feels --- every part of it. Being filled and touched, Hyeong-bae's body, his hands, the warmth from his skin. How good it feels to see him smile, to see he _wants_ him, that look in his eyes again --- Jiyong's filled with it --- to the brim; with this warmth and contentment and lazy desire and hope and excitement not just for the sex but _everything_. Everything that comes after it.  
  
Hyeong-bae's hands tighten around Jiyong's thighs. He cants his hips when Jiyong sinks down and it feels so good --- Jiyong's whole body radiates heat, his cheeks flush, his breathing is laboured. He can feel the slow build coming with every easy thrust but he grows tired too quickly.  
  
His thighs begin to ache. This has never been his favourite position, it's too hard to maintain. There's not enough movement or freedom --- his muscles tighten and his joints lock. His lower back begins to ache and he grimaces.  
  
Hyeong-bae grabs his hand to get his attention and gestures with his fingers that he wants them to roll over. 'Can I?' he asks.  
  
Jiyong nods and seconds later he's on his stomach, faced pressed down into the mattress with Hyeong-bae spreading his legs, pushing his knees further apart.  
  
Hyeong-bae's hands grip Jiyong's ass and he sinks in. His fingers dig into soft flesh. He pulls Jiyong's cheeks apart, grips him tight and thrusts in hard. With each deep push, he draws a quiet, _'fuck,_ ' from Jiyong's lips and he does it again and again, soft breaths thudding out of him with each drive forward.  
  
Hyeong-bae teases him. He sinks in, only a little at first then pulls out. When he sinks back in it's to the hilt. Jiyong groans and pushes back to meet him. They find a good rhythm.  
  
This is Hyeong-bae's first time and it's _good_. Jiyong can't imagine how he'd feel if this was his own first time like Hyeong-bae thinks it is. He couldn't _ask_ for a better first time. Hyeong-bae is reading the signals, listening to the sounds he's making, following directions ----  
  
This must be how he did it with his girlfriend, Jiyong thinks, _from behind_ , then Hyeong-bae hits a sweet spot and Jiyong keens, his face sinking down into the mattress. He wonders if she liked it when he fucked her in the ass.  
  
She must have, he thinks, because Hyeong-bae's too good --- he must have done this more than once, a few times at least to move his hips this way --- to know the right angles, the most comfortable position.  
  
It's just fucking _good_. He’s grateful that he’s Hyeong-bae’s first--- grateful that Hyeong-bae doesn’t know any better to suspect this isn’t _his_ first time.  
  
Jiyong loses track of time. Hyeong-bae has stamina he didn't expect --- his first time fucking someone in months and he hasn't come in five minutes? Jiyong's moans and grunts and quiet slipping sounds grow louder and more desperate by the minute. His hands fist in the sheets and he wipes his face on the pillow below him to keep the sweat from his eyes. He can feel a line of sweat down his back --- it travels from the base of his neck to the small of his back.  
  
Hyeong-bae's palms are sweaty. Jiyong wonders if the rest of him is too, if he's glistening with it. He couldn't see anyway in the dark. He wishes he could --- he hopes they do this again. He wants to fuck Hyeong-bae in the daylight. He wants to see the lines in the corner of his eyes. He wants to see him smiling, wants to see his hands on him _properly_ \--- wants to see Hyeong-bae's face above him when he sinks in.  
  
Soon enough Jiyong can tell Hyeong-bae is almost there. His rhythm falters and his breathing changes. His grip tightens in Jiyong's skin and he thrusts a little harder, a little faster.  
  
'Wait,' Jiyong says between heavy breaths. 'Don't cum yet ---- pull out. I want to roll over'.  
  
Hyeong-bae does what he says without question and Jiyong rolls gingerly onto his back. He gets comfortable, propping the pillow beneath his neck. Between uneven breaths, he spreads his legs and Hyeong-bae moves between them.  
  
Jiyong guides him, tells him to move in closer then lifts his hips. He tells Hyeong-bae what to do, how to lean in and support his legs and then Hyeong-bae's _inside_ again but this time Jiyong can _see_ him.  
  
This position is different. Hyeong-bae's not as confident in his movements, he hasn't done this before --- all those times he fucked his girlfriend, he must have done it from behind, but it doesn't matter. Jiyong likes this. He's comfortable on his back, to have support from the mattress, to be able to see Hyeong-bae's face and his concentration.  
  
Hyeong-bae catches a look on Jiyong's face and leans over to kiss him. Jiyong's hands wrap around his back.  
  
His lips are soft and warm and Jiyong's missed him --- missed being able to kiss him and touch his face and the back of his neck and slide careful fingers into his hair.  
  
Jiyong moves his arms around Hyeong-bae's neck and moans quietly at a slow languid thrust. Hyeong-bae can't really move in this position, so hunched over, but he can roll his hips and it sends little waves of pleasure through Jiyong's body each time. Jiyong kisses him and tries to tell him --- he whispers into his cheek, 'I told you it wasn't you. _It wasn't ---_ I'm sorry about everything ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae wasn't making him sick, all those times they tried to do this before --- what it did to Hyeong-bae thinking it was _him_ , that Jiyong was disgusted by him--- Jiyong needs to him to know that isn't true, it _wasn't him_ \--- he wishes he could tell him the truth. He wishes Hyeong-bae would understand the truth, even if he _could_ share it.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him to quiet him.  
  
What does that mean? Jiyong wonders. Does he forgive him? Does this somehow make everything okay? Does this one night erase all the bad ones?  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls away and rests his weight back on his heels, thrusting harder, his fingers digging into Jiyong's hips. His fringe is clinging to his forehead --- he's sweating. Jiyong wants to reach up and brush it out of his eyes but a part of him doesn't. A part of him thinks it's sexy, the way Hyeong-bae's week-old beard is kind of sexy. The way it feels against his skin, a feeling entirely new ----  
  
Suddenly Jiyong can feel it; how close Hyeong-bae is. He makes a desperate groan and he's almost there and _he can't ---_  
  
Jiyong clutches Hyeong-bae's arm tightly.  
  
'Wait,' he says. 'Don't cum inside me, please --- you can cum on me, but not --- inside'.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods --- he doesn't question, he never questions, he just does what Jiyong says --- every time --- Half a minute later after a series of frenzied thrusts that have Jiyong almost coming himself, hands fisted in the sheets, Hyeong-bae pulls out --- he tears the condom off just fast enough and cums on Jiyong's hip and inner thigh.  
  
Then it's done.  
  
Hyeong-bae groans afterwards and leans forward, between Jiyong's thighs. He lays his head on Jiyong's chest.  
  
Jiyong runs a hand through Hyeong-bae's hair. He can smell his shampoo. Sandalwood and lime --- The weight of him laying on top of him is almost suffocating but Jiyong likes it. He doesn't want him to move. He just wants to lay there and play with his hair and let him fall asleep there if that's what he wants.  
  
But Hyeong-bae moves. Jiyong misses the weight of him but he doesn't go far. He rolls off him and takes Jiyong dick in hand while kissing the side of his head, his cheek, along his jaw. He grips Jiyong tightly and with a few careful strokes and whispers in the ear, Jiyong cums silently, his fingertips digging into Hyeong-bae's arm.  
  
_'Fuck'._  
  
Hyeong-bae wipes his hands on the sheet and lays there with his eyes closed. His breathing returns to normal and Jiyong watches him.  
  
There are so many things he wants to say, like _'were you going to break up with me?_ ' and _'Are you still?_ ' but he's too tired.  
  
He tries lazily to clean himself off and then he's fast asleep.  
  
When he wakes in the morning, his face is pressed against Hyeong-bae's side. He's snoring and he _stinks._  
  
Jiyong peels his face off Hyeong-bae's sweaty chest and looks around bleary eyed for the time. He doesn't find it. Hyeong-bae wakes up at Jiyong's movements. He blinks a few times, lays his eyes on Jiyong then looks at their nakedness like he's remembering what happened, that he didn't dream it. He mumbles a quiet, 'Oh yeah,' in surprise and then rolls back over, pulling Jiyong down with him.  
  
'Too early,' he mumbles. 'Go back to sleep'.  
  
Jiyong lets himself be dragged back down.  
  
Hyeong-bae wraps an arm around him and Jiyong smiles.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

  
  
Hunger stirs him and Jiyong wakes to the familiar sight of Gaho's open mouth on the pillow, a damp ring of drool staining the fabric. No matter where in the apartment he goes to sleep, he finds his way in the night to Jiyong's pillow.  
  
'Why?' Jiyong mumbles. _'Every_ night'.  
  
Gaho's ears prick up and the bed shifts. Hyeong-bae's rough voice crackles from across the bed, 'Good boy. Blow your nasty breath right in his face'.  
  
Jiyong wonders whether it's worth moving, to stretch his cold feet across the bed to Hyeong-bae's warm ankles. Gaho's only been climbing between them for a few weeks. At first Hyeong-bae found it irritating but he warmed up to it when he realised Jiyong was the one bearing the brunt of it every day. Now he thinks it's funny.  
  
Jiyong stretches an experimental leg out, ready to plant his cold feet up Hyeong-bae's pants leg but the phone rings before he can take action. He flings an arm out behind him and finds his phone on the third sweep of clumsy fingers.  
  
'Hello?'  
  
'Are you busy?'  
  
Seungri's voice comes eagerly through the line.  
  
'Am I _busy_? What time is it? Nine? I'm sleeping'.  
  
'It's lunch time,' Seungri answers.  
  
_'Bullshit'._  
  
Jiyong groans and rolls over dog and Hyeong-bae alike to grab Hyeong-bae's phone off his bedside table. The time reads 12:26. Jiyong holds it above Hyeong-bae's face who feigns innocence.  
  
Jiyong frowns and knees him in the side.

Hyeong-bae has changed the time on his phone again.

That's a _thing_ he does.

He changes clocks, phones, the time on the microwave.

When Jiyong answered his phone, he caught the bleary numbers, 9:07 aka morning, not _lunch_. It was hard to tell with the curtains drawn. Without the right time or Gaho's internal _feed me_ alarm, it was impossible to know when it was, ever. Then there was Hyeong-bae, with his proclivity for changing the time on anything unfortunate enough to have numbers. He was power mad.  
  
It started innocently enough. It was sweet, really. Hyeong-bae would change the time on his phone when he knew Jiyong would be late for something. It was a way of giving him the gift of more time. He simply set the clock forward and Jiyong’s lateness ceased. Lately though, he just does it for fun. Jiyong's never quite sure what time it is any more.  
  
'I thought it was earlier,' Jiyong answers tiredly, resisting the urge to drop Hyeong-bae's phone on his face.  
  
'Can you come into work then? I thought you might be here already but you're not booked in today'.  
  
Jiyong rolls back over the two heavy lumps he sleeps with and plants his head on the pillow.  
  
'Yeah, I can come in. What's up?'  
  
'I've been working on a few things, I want your---' Seungri hesitates. '– Opinion? I want you to come listen'.  
  
Gaho shifts his heavy body and starts licking a wet trail up Jiyong's bare arm. He shakes him off but he just comes back.

'I'm all yours,' Jiyong says. 'I'm free _all_ day'. He emphasises all, with a sharp elbow to Hyeong-bae's ribs. He hears a quiet grunt of disapproval then Gaho disappears over Hyeong-bae's back. 'When do you want me?'  
  
'As soon as you like?' Seungri answers. 'I've only got another three hours in here though'.  
  
A low growl comes from the other side of the bed and Jiyong sits up on his elbows, trying to peer over the mountain Hyeong-bae forms under the blankets.  
  
'Okay, well--- I'll take a shower and I'll be over. I'll see you in 30?'

'Cool. See you soon'.

Hyeong-bae laughs quietly the moment Jiyong's phone hits the bedside table.  
  
Jiyong punches him weakly and crawls across the mattress. He props his chin on Hyeong-bae's shoulder and sees Gaho laying on his side, nipping at Hyeong-bae's fingers. After every bite and growl, he licks the marks he left behind.  
  
'Kiss ass,' Jiyong mutters.  
  
'Don't be jealous,' Hyeong-bae says. 'We have a special bond'.  
  
Jiyong snorts and rolls back onto his side of the bed. He yawns and stretches out. The bed is suddenly more comfortable and he lets his eyes close, just for a minute.  
  
'Are you really going to work?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong looks across at his back. He sounds unhappy about it.  
  
'Yeah. Seungri wants me to listen to some stuff. Why? Did you have romantic plans for our day?'  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't answer the way Jiyong expects, with a glib tone or a sarcastic comment. He sounds sulky if anything.  
  
‘And if I did?'

Jiyong grimaces. If Hyeong-bae already has plans for their weekend, he just has to say so. He can call Seungri back and get a raincheck. He can go in tomorrow or the day after. He's done it enough times, taken enough days off for Hyeong-bae's sake that he should know that. He doesn't do it every time he asks, but often enough that his answer seems unfair and childish because yeah, it would matter. Obviously.

'I told him I'd come and listen,' Jiyong says, non-committally. He says it in a breezy way that Hyeong-bae should know is his cue. Gaho barks quietly and Hyeong-bae's arm shoots up for a moment like Gaho has nicked him. He doesn't answer.  
  
' _Did_ you have plans?' Jiyong ventures.  
  
'Nope'.  
  
'Are you _sure?_ '  
  
He feels like a teacher or a parent trying to coax the truth out of a child. The only response he gets is the low growl of Gaho's lazy playing.  
  
'If you didn't have plans, why did you change the time on my phone?' Jiyong asks. He tries to sound as non-confrontational as possible. 'Did you want us to spend the day together?'  
  
Hyeong-bae sighs loudly like Jiyong's questions are draining the very life out of his body.  
  
'It’s fine. Just go to work,' he answers drily.  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes. He wonders if sixty seconds of unwarranted attitude constitutes a _fight_ or if they can be one sided. Even if it does (and they can), he thinks they're doing okay. It's been a few weeks since Hyeong-bae's midnight return and this is the first re-emergence of _the tone_ since.

After Hyeong-bae slunk back, things were okay again. They didn't really talk about what happened between them, they just got on with it. Jiyong initiated sex the first few times after and Hyeong-bae took it for what it was. He never asked about those first few times--- or what happened to make him take _'a break'_ from their relationship. He seemed relieved and glad to be home and that was it.

It was Jiyong's birthday not long after and though he spent it with friends at a club, he spent the night before with Hyeong-bae and had a low-key celebration at home. Sex then dinner then more sex and that was a strange relief. It was ordinary and kind of nice.  
  
Jiyong's birthdays for years had been such big events. Even with Seunghyun, he didn't know how to throw a low-key celebration for two. Memories of huge man-sized bears lingered in Jiyong's memory as he woke up on the big day. It was kind of nice to feel ordinary.  
  
Then again, it was nice to go out and celebrate with his friends again. That was ordinary too, in a different way. He missed being the centre of attention. He wished he could drink and flirt and dance and scream and be reckless but when he took a quiet moment by himself in a corner, just him and a glass of champagne, he couldn't drink it. It touched his lips and he put it down. He tried not to think about alcohol much but he missed it. It was a strange desire --- he was afraid of it, but he longed to have it. He just wasn't there yet.  
  
Hyeong-bae back, birthday done with, weeks of domestic life gone by.  
  
Things are fine.  
  
Hyeong-bae waking up on the wrong side of the bed this-morning ---- that's just a thing. Jiyong doesn't have the will or the energy to have a fight in the morning _or_ 'lunch time'. Whatever god damn time it is.

‘Whatever,' Jiyong says. ‘But stop changing the time on my phone, please. Don't even _touch_ my phone. I need it for work. I need to know what time it is'.

It takes Hyeong-bae a while to answer but he does, eventually, in a desultory tone. 'I won't touch your phone again,' the way a kid might say, _'Yes sir'_ with attitude.

Jiyong throws an arm out and touches Hyeong-bae's back with lax fingers.  
  
'What's wrong with you?'  
  
'Hm?'  
  
Gaho barks quietly.  
  
'What's _wrong_ with you? You have a _tone_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls onto his back and looks across.  
  
'There's no tone,' he says.  
  
He has a look on his face like a petulant teenager who's been wronged somehow.  
  
'I _have_ to go to work,' Jiyong says, though it isn't necessarily true. Hyeong-bae just hasn't given him a reason not to.  
  
'So _go_ to work!'  
  
Jiyong sits up.  
  
'What are you doing? What is this?'  
  
Hyeong-bae ignores his questions. He focusses his attentions on the dog, the way fighting parents use their kid as a buffer. Jiyong tolerates it as long as he can.

 

'Are you going to talk to me?'

Hyeong-bae looks like he's thinking about it. His lips part, there are words on the tip of his tongue but he shakes his head at the last minute, decided.  
  
Jiyong answers the silence with a quiet, 'whatever,' and pulls himself out of bed and into the bathroom.  
  


  
  
*

 

 

Forty minutes later, he's chest to chest with Adam, producer extraordinaire, monopolised now, almost entirely by the new girl group. A pile of boxes he was carrying when they collided hits the floor and a river of paper shoots out across the hall.  
  
'Shit, sorry'.  
  
Jiyong crouches down and helps him get his shit together. He was in a hurry, stuck in traffic, he rounded the corner and forehead met shoulder.  
  
'Always so eager to work,' Adam jokes.  
  
'I'm meeting Seungri, I'm running late'.  
  
'Never would have guessed'.  
  
Jiyong picks up the last few sheets of paper and gives them the once over. They're all blank. It's just a ream of white paper.  
  
'Important documents?'  
  
_'Very'._  
  
Jiyong smiles and helps Adam re-balance his cargo. His beard is changing colour. It's darker than it used to be.  
  
'Where are you going with all this? Need help?'  
  
'Studio B,' Adam answers.  
  
'I'm headed over. I can take it'.  
  
Adams eyes close and a look forms on his face that's pure ecstasy.  
  
‘Oh, you have descended from the clouds!' He slides the boxes from his own arms to Jiyong's. 'Thanks man, I owe you one'. He slaps Jiyong's shoulder on his way past and ducks around the corner, out of sight.  
  
Jiyong whines quietly and tries to shift the weight of his cargo. It's deceptively heavy. The highest box sits just below his chin. Every time he takes a step, it wobbles precariously and the whole tower loses balance. It takes almost five minutes to get upstairs, each step a slow fluid movement, like dancing. A few people pass him on the way out of the elevator and only _some_ of them laugh.

Someone catches him on the final corner and it takes a heroic drop to one knee for him to keep a hold of each box. It takes twice as long to get back up again. By the time he reaches the studio, navigating the dim hallway, he feels like he's trekked up the Amazon. He feels worn out and his fingers are going numb.

He kicks the door open with his foot and pushes it open with his ass hoping Seungri will alleviate his suffering but there's no-one there. Seungri's gone walkabout. Jiyong groans quietly, exasperated. He squeezes through the heavy door, trying to balance the boxes in his arms. The smallest of the lot catches on the door frame and he almost drops it. He can't carry them anymore. The boxes sway. He does a not-so-graceful shuffle to the table in time for largest to hit the table with a thud. Papers spill out of a burst open side and fall on to the floor.  
  
He watches them, pained.  
  
Sheets spill over the table like rain from a gutter. He doesn't stop them. He lets them go until the final one floats gently to the floor.

‘What a fucking day,' he murmurs, looking at the dirty floor. ‘Why am I wearing shorts?’

He throws his keys and cigarettes on the table then pulls the elastic band from his hair. He does it up tight in a bun on the top of his head to keep it out of his face. Hyeong-bae calls it his, 'Nanny hair'. Every time he puts his hair up in a bun, he cleans or cooks or scolds Hyeong-bae for drying his clothes over a lamp shade. _'Do you want mould? Because this is how you get mould_ '.  
  
He cracks his knuckles and gets down on his hands and knees and pulls errant sheets out from under the desk. The hard ground makes his knees roll and the cracks between the floorboards leave indentations in his skin. Fucking _shorts,_ he thinks. A scar on his left knee from a skateboarding accident hurts when it scrapes along the ground. He puts a stack of papers to one side and rolls up his sleeves, muttering under his breath. He's only been awake for an hour and he's spent half of it on the floor. He scrounges around for the remaining sheets and reaching for the last one, jumps half out of his skin.  
  
_'Fuck'_  
  
He falls back on his ass in surprise. There are sneakers in the corner, attached to legs and a body and a face with eyes that are watching him.  
  
Seunghyun.

Jiyong freezes in place, arm caught beneath him on the floor. Seunghyun's watching him with downcast eyes and the world, briefly, is narrowed to this _small space_ between them.  
  
He's real.

For the first time in a year, Seunghyun is somebody real. Someone who existed, who spoke and laughed and yelled and cried and had real thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams and who _loved_ him.

Seunghyun looks different. He's lost weight and shaved his head; a number 2 cut. The messy brown locks he had when he left are gone. He looks older. Seunghyun doesn't seem surprised to see him, or moved or shocked or anything at all. He looks as though they see each other every day and today is just like any other.

Jiyong flushes, embarrassed.  
  
A part of him could reach out; could crawl over there on hand and knee and touch him to make sure he's real, but he is. Jiyong can smell him, his cologne, the coffee on the ground by his feet. It's not a dream. His world is reduced to a familiar scent of cologne and coffee; Seunghyun's favourite from the Coffee bean & tea leaf two blocks away. He sees the label on the paper cup. He wonders how he couldn't smell it before; how he couldn't smell Seunghyun the second he opened the door.

Seunghyun stays silent. He watches. He looks so every day, like he belongs there in the corner, like a piece of furniture you see all the time and taken little notice of. For an unfair moment, it's like he never left; like there was never a time in Jiyong's life where he had hoped to find him and been let down. It's like he's been here all along, sitting in that corner. All Jiyong had to do was turn around.

Jiyong pulls the last sheet of paper into his chest and sits up on his heels. His face flushes. For a moment it looks like Seunghyun might say something--- but he doesn't. His lip part in pre-speech but nothing follows and the momentary lapse in judgement Jiyong felt in wanting to hear his voice, passes.

The paper creases in his curling grip.

'Wh—' he begins.  
  
_Wha – **what?** What are you doing here? Why aren't you saying anything? Why did you leave? Why did you come back? Where the fuck is your hair?_  
  
The door swings open in a violent motion and Seungri's six feet inside before Jiyong can say whatever he started. His words are cut off at the head. Seungri looks puzzled to see him on the floor and then he smells Seunghyun's coffee. He turns to the quiet body in the corner. Seungri looks back at Jiyong with an unreadable expression and for a terse few seconds there's silence but for the faint whirr of computers at the mixing board.  
  
'We're all here,' Seungri says awkwardly. 'Great'.

 

 

*

 

Jiyong kicks his chair back against the wall so he can put his feet up on the table without rolling backwards. He gives the thumbs up for Seungri to start running through each track.  
  
'Just listen,' he says. 'To the whole songs and then afterwards you can listen again and give me your thoughts, okay?'  
  
Jiyong nods and leans his head against the wall, arms folded across his chest. From his place, he can see the both of them; friend and foe. After Seungri arrived and sat down, Jiyong followed silently. He faced the recording booth while Seungri and Seunghyun exchanged words and that _voice_. For the first time in a year, Jiyong heard his voice. Not on an answering machine or in a song but in the flesh. After 374 days of silence, the first thing Jiyong heard Seunghyun say was a throwaway comment about _coffee.  
_  
Jiyong listened to them talk, dazed. He watched the vacant monitor above him on the wall, Seunghyun's dull reflection in one corner. It wasn't what he imagined. Before Hyeong-bae, and sometimes after, Jiyong wondered what would happen when they came face to face again. What their first words would be to one another.

He never thought about _coffee_.  
  
It felt stupidly ordinary and anticlimactic and despite never really deciding on what he wanted to happen either way, it was a disappointment. Then again, _they_ hadn't spoken. Seunghyun had spoken --- to Seungri --- about coffee --- but to him? Nothing. Technically, their reuniting words hadn't happened yet. He couldn't help thinking they would be ordinary and forgettable either way, if they happened at all.  
  
For now, Jiyong heard Seunghyun's voice, but he couldn't interact with it. So, they were together at last but still apart.

It was like a bubble surrounded Seunghyun and he couldn't see out of it. He couldn't see Jiyong in the corner trying to decide whether he wanted to speak to him or not. The bubble made him seem off limits. Seunghyun's avoidance-- the refusal to look Jiyong's way, the normalcy of his voice, the lack of nervousness--- made Jiyong seem insignificant. Like he couldn't speak to Seunghyun even if he wanted to.

Seunghyun seemed different. Not just physically, thinner and short of hair, but something else. It was in the way he spoke. He seemed relaxed. Care free? Like a weight had been lifted. A weight Jiyong didn't know was there until it _wasn't_. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something in him, changed. He seemed lighter somehow. Or maybe vacant.

So, Jiyong listened to their chit chat and watched Seunghyun's reflection in the monitor, curious, like a fly on the wall. An outsider in his own life. Detached. Soon enough, their small talk ended as uneventfully as it began and Seungri sat down at the computer, ready to be judged.

Jiyong closes his eyes for a moment, head against the wall.

He feels a headache coming on.

 

 

 

*

  


Seungri clicks around a few times and releases the mouse with a look of pride. Moments later, music filters through the speakers, soft and lilting. Familiar but new. The vocals come in at a slow build to a falsetto loop of pleading questions. _'I said so, didn't I? Why couldn't you believe me?'_  
  
It's a love song, in a way. The bridge comes in at a whisper, ' _I loved you, I love you --- don't I?'_ It's a weird song, but there's something there. It's uncertain, the lyrics sort of vulnerable and confused. It's the perfect song about love and it feels personal, like Seungri's last album.  
  
Jiyong wonders who he's singing about now. He feels bad for a moment, for missing out on so much of his life. He watches him with curiosity. Seungri's eyes are closed, his fingers tapping inaudibly on the table. He's listening for mistakes, things he can change, things he can make better. That's why they're here, Jiyong figures. Not for them to critique his music, but for Seungri to do it himself.  
  
Jiyong's done the same thing. It's a vital part of editing. There's something about other people being present that helps you hear mistakes in the music. Jiyong watches Seungri's face. Every so often his forehead creases and he frowns. Now and then he opens his eyes and writes something down. For the most part, he's in his own world and Jiyong has the freedom to look elsewhere.  
  
He tries not to look at Seunghyun when Seungri's eyes are closed, but most of the time he can't help himself. He looks so comfortable and ordinary. He's wearing the same loose pyjama pants he's been wearing for years with a sweater on the top that shows Jiyong how much weight he's lost. He's been thinner before but barely, only once or twice and for only weeks at a time. His cheeks look hollowed out and his eyes darker.  
  
He isn't eating. Jiyong knows how little food it takes for Seunghyun to be so thin and he wonders what's wrong with him. Maybe someone died, or he's busy; working? Who knows. He doesn't know anything about him anymore.

Maybe he _is_ eating. Maybe he's sick; thin because something inside him is eating him up.  
  
Jiyong shivers and turns back to the sound board. Seunghyun isn't sick. He can't be. If he was, someone would have told him. More than that, he wouldn't be so calm and collected. Or would he? Maybe that's why he seems different. So light and airy. He's sick and it's changed his outlook on life. Jiyong taps nervously on the arm of his chair until Seungri shoots him a questioning glance. He slides his hands beneath his thighs to still them.  
  
The next track begins. Dulcet tones come through the speakers and fill the room and for the briefest moment, Jiyong stops thinking about Seunghyun.  
  
Seungri's voice begins over the melody and it's listless, words so lazily strung together they're barely understandable but a crescendo of piano and strings begins and Seungri's voice builds to this articulate and sonorous wave. Jiyong struggles to find the words to describe it. It's beautiful and honest and he _made_ it. He produced it, wrote the lyrics, manufactured this song from start to finish all on his own. It's _amazing_ and raw and Jiyong grasps helplessly to find the words to say so ---  
  
'That's beautiful'.  
  
Jiyong turns towards the voice. He watches Seunghyun who looks the way he feels; surprised and proud. Seungri thanks Seunghyun for the kind words and Jiyong feels robbed of his moment. Seunghyun spoke before he got the chance.  
  
The fade-out ends and Seungri beams from his side of the desk. After Seunghyun's succinct but accurate summation, he looks for Jiyong's opinion and all he can say is, 'It's good'.  
  
He can feel Seunghyun's eyes on him, bridging the gap between them until he can barely speak at all.  
  
Seungri looks disappointed. Jiyong wants to say something else, explain how good the song really is. It demands attention. It was commanding and bold but he can't find the words. He mouths wordlessly like a fish out of water and Seungri turns away with a smile.  
  
Jiyong slumps back in his chair and nurses his head with lax fingers to try and stave off his burgeoning headache.

After that, things go by much the same way.

When Seungri speaks, Jiyong hears the cliff notes. Key words that bounce around inside his head but never join. His world is reduced to Seunghyun and the space around him, the smell of his cologne, the hair around his ears growing slightly faster than the rest, the dark scar on his hand, the shoelaces on his left foot that are almost untied.  
  
While Seungri speaks and works and plays tracks with animation and bares his soul, Jiyong can't focus on anything else but Seunghyun. Even facing away from him, staring at the highlighted tracks on the monitor, the software jumping from one line to the next, there's only Seunghyun. The absence of him is as consuming as his presence. The sight of him carries its drama's but not being able to see him brings its own. It's easier to look at him than it is not to.  
  
Jiyong wonders why it isn't the same for Seunghyun. He hasn't looked his way at all. A cursory sweep from head to toe when they first came face to face and after that, nothing? Jiyong can stare all he wants at Seunghyun because he isn't looking back to catch him. He doesn't have the appearance of trying not to look either.

He just doesn't need to look the way Jiyong does.

Maybe he doesn't care anymore. Maybe he isn't curious about what's happened since they last saw each other.

Jiyong tries to see himself through Seunghyun's eyes.

He is dressed the way he always dresses, in shorts and a t-shirt. He's put on a few pounds but he looks healthy and ordinary. His hair is different. Longer. Tied up the way it was when he was twenty but that's all that's changed. He looks fine and unassuming. As self-effacing as he gets. Nothing much to look at, really.

Seunghyun looks thinner than he used to and _tired_. The shaved head casts a military gloom that breeds an ache in the pit of Jiyong's stomach. Questions he's too afraid to ask, 'Are you enlisting early?' or maybe something simpler like, 'did something happen?'  
  
That's why people shave their heads, isn't it? That's what they say about women. A dramatic haircut always follows some upheaval in life. Maybe that's what happened to him. It's suspicious either way. Seunghyun didn't like his hair short. As he grew older, he preferred it longer. He liked his quiff. He thought it was distinguished and when he wasn't out and about, he let it go wild and fall in his face. It suited him.

Jiyong liked it.

More than anything, more than the sunken cheeks and the change in Seunghyun's manner and voice, his hair is the biggest surprise. Jiyong can remember a time when Seunghyun's self-worth was tied into his missing hair. The right hairstyle gave him a boost of self-confidence he couldn't otherwise find. The wrong hairstyle would sink him. He'd spend hours staring at himself in the mirror, fingers in his hair, trying to fix things he couldn't fix and change things he couldn't change. He thought his face lacked symmetry and certain hairstyles made it ugly, while others made it attractive.

Maybe he's just grown up, Jiyong thinks.  
  
His thoughts go round in circles and he wishes he didn't care.  
  
The songs run through until the first one starts again. Seungri and Seunghyun talk through each song but no-one pays him any attention so Jiyong eventually tunes out.  
  
He's brought back to reality some time later by Seungri's voice and Seunghyun's movement in the corner.  
  
He's _leaving._  
  
Jiyong's heart pounds in his chest and there's an ache in his gut he can't fully explain. A part of him feels displaced when Seunghyun stands to stretch his legs. He doesn't want him to go. There's too much to say and do--- too many ways this was supposed to go, so many questions unanswered. Where is the explanation? The apology? Where is the closure and the feeling all this is finally over?  
  
He waits for a glance, a look, a mouthed message that says, _'we'll talk later,'_ but it doesn't come. Seunghyun doesn't pay him any mind. He just moves slowly, changed. Tired but calm, like he's in that bubble and nothing can touch him. Including Jiyong.  
  
Jiyong's anxiety peaks. He edges unconsciously closer until he's almost out of his seat and on the floor.  
  
This can't be it? This _can't_ be it.

Seunghyun comes back after all this time, talks about coffee and shoes and music with Seungri and then leaves, just like that? Nothing changed? Nothing altered? As far away as he was 800 miles across an ocean? Is this how it happens in the real world? This quiet re-entry into daily life? A small ripple in the pond? Jiyong, immaterial?  
  
Seunghyun pats around his jacket and pants like he's lost something and Jiyong asks in a calm tone, 'Do you want a cigarette?'  
  
They're the first words he's spoken to him since Christmas, since he told him to stay where he was. Since he told him not to come home. Since he last said, _I love you._  
  
Seunghyun answers without looking up, 'No, I quit. But thanks'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. They're the first words --- _their_ first words ---- and they're about _cigarettes._ That's it. That's how it happens. An offer, a refusal and that's it. _That's it._

Fifteen years of _knowing_ each other, years of _seeing_ each other, one year of openly _loving_ each other, hundreds of _I love you's_ and fantasies about where they would be in two, three, five years-time. Birthdays and holidays and weekends, shared flu's and stomach bugs, arguments and sex and intimacy and trust and dependency -- and this is it.

_Do you want a cigarette? No thank-you._  
  
Half of Jiyong's life reduced to a meaningless question. Then, Seunghyun's got his jacket on, the door is open and Seungri's yelling after his retreating frame, 'I'll see you later'.  
  
Just like that.  
  
When the door clicks shut behind him, Jiyong realises he's in the centre of the room.  
  
He lets out a shaky exhale and tries to get his bearings. Standing where Seunghyun stood, Jiyong can smell him and not just the clothes he left behind, the shirts Jiyong slept with until all the smell of him was gone, but Seunghyun in the flesh. The faint odour of his cologne and the rest of it. That unique smell people have, the culmination of where they go every day, where they live, where they sleep, who they see, bundled up in one neat package.

Seunghyun smells different now. He used to smell of cigarettes and something else that's missing. Himself maybe. They spent so much time together, Jiyong thought sometimes they started smelling alike. Sometimes they'd wear the same cologne, go the same places, smoke the same number of cigarettes in a day.  
  
Seunghyun smells familiar, recognisable, but different. The way he looks like Seunghyun but isn't the person Jiyong remembers. It makes it hard to feel angry or hurt or anything else. It's him but it's not him. It feels a bit like he isn't there at all, like he's still across an ocean, unreachable, still a figment of Jiyong's imagination, a face on a screen or in a photograph. This is another version of him, one made in Japan. An unsatisfactory imitation.  
  
Jiyong feels ill.

Seungri clears his throat and leans against the desk with all the grace and subtlety of an elephant.  
  
'I didn't know he was going to be here'.  
  
It takes a moment for Jiyong to understand he's apologising.  
  
'When I was waiting for you, he showed up. I couldn't ask him to leave. I told him you were coming down. I didn't think he'd stay'.  
  
'It's okay,' Jiyong says. Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be? 'Why are you apologising?' He asks from the centre of the room. His feet feel rooted to the spot, facing the doorway like a widow hearing the ghost of retreating steps. He's embarrassed. He folds his arms across his chest to hide his shaking hands.

Seungri shrugs the question away and sits back down. Jiyong finds the sense to follow him.  
  
They sit in silence for a while. Seungri opens up a song. He changes something and plays it back. He repeats himself a few times, little changes to test the waters. Things he heard and didn't like when he was playing for an audience.

Jiyong watches the monitor, the beats pulsing on the screen, the jump from one clip to another sewn seamlessly together. Seungri's voice ties together fifty different recorded sounds and words and halting breaths and Jiyong's glad for the silence between them. He's happy to listen to Seungri's music without Seunghyun in the room, but he comes back soon enough, in spirit.  
  
When that one preternaturally good song begins, Jiyong manages to cobble together a few words, something more than his own _, It's good._  
  
'Thanks. I saw you liked it before. You were distracted. I forgive you,' Seungri jokes.

Jiyong slumps. His fingers smooth lines across his forehead to ease the tension. Seungri's words bring Seunghyun back. He's inviting the conversation. Jiyong resists for as long as it takes to pull a cigarette out of his pocket. He runs it through his fingers and speaks before he can stop himself.  
  
'He looks bad'.  
  
He pictures Seunghyun in the corner of the room. Sunken cheeks and downcast eyes. He looked like shit but his movements were so free and his voice too--- he was simultaneously good and bad at the same time.  
  
Seungri gestures towards his cheeks, 'You mean this?' He sucks his cheeks in until they pop back out with a loud smacking sound to imitate Seunghyun's gauntness.  
  
'What's wrong with him?' Jiyong asks, not sure if he cares or not, or if he does, why. He tries to sound apathetic and Seungri shrugs for the umpteenth time.  
  
'I don't know,' he answers. 'We talk but not about that. I don't really know what he's doing or what he's got planned. He shows up here every day, works out in the gym for a while and then he goes home. Sometimes he hangs out and sometimes he doesn't'.

'He goes to the _gym?_ '  
  
Seungri laughs but there's something else in it.  
  
'I know,' he says. 'It's nothing too involved. He just runs'.  
  
'Seunghyun doesn't run'.  
  
'He does now'.  
  
Jiyong feels a transitory flash of pain but in the silence, it ebbs away.  
  
It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. He hasn't thought enough about the idea of Seunghyun being changed. There must be a dozen things about him that are different now. A dozen more things than what he's already seen. A year is a long time.  
  
He looks at the cigarette between his fingers --- he didn't think about that earlier. Seunghyun _quit_ smoking. After almost fifteen years of knowing each other and shared cigarettes between them for the bulk of it, Seunghyun had quit. Memories of proffered cigarettes and smoke rings on the balcony were fading away and in their place was Seunghyun, shaking his head saying, _'I quit'.  
  
_ It wasn't about the proffered cigarettes either because _I quit_ said it all. It became him. He quit --- not just smoking but their life. He quit their relationship, their plans, he quit Jiyong. He quit being the man Jiyong expected him to be.

Jiyong drags the cigarette beneath his nose and inhales. It calms him down.  
  
'I don't like it,' he says, and he doesn't. There's nothing about Seunghyun that he likes any more. Not his easy voice or his calm exterior. Maybe it's personal--- maybe he doesn't like it because it happened independently of him. Maybe Seunghyun went off to Japan and became a better, happier person without him. But maybe, _a little part of him wonders if_ \---- 'Something's wrong'.  
  
'Because he goes to the gym, there's something wrong with him?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs.

Seungri eyes him searchingly and grimaces. He intuits Jiyong's request.  
  
'What do you want _me_ to do? Stage an intervention? He doesn't need one'.  
  
'And if he does?'  
  
Seungri rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. He lowers his voice.  
  
'Is that your professional opinion? You saw him for two hours'.  
  
'What is he _doing_ here after all this time?' Jiyong asks. 'And looking like that? Something is wrong with him'.  
  
Maybe. It feels good to say so--- makes him feel better to think so. He holds an arm outstretched towards the door where Seunghyun stood thirty minutes ago. He makes a violent sweeping gesture for emphasis.  
  
'Has somebody _talked_ to him?'

'He's fine,' Seungri says. 'He runs, he hangs out, he goes home. Whatever it is, he's dealing with it. Leave him alone'.

'Is that _your_ professional opinion?' Jiyong asks in the same tone Seungri delivered it. 'He's _fine_?'  
  
'I think,' Seungri says, getting up from his seat, 'That when he told me not to ask about it, he meant it'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
'So there _is_ something'.  
  
'I guess so'.  
  
Jiyong sighs.  
  
'He's not sick is he?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'How do you _know_?'  
  
'Because I asked him and he laughed in my face'.  
  
Jiyong cricks his neck and hangs his head over the back of his chair. The light on the ceiling is too bright. It's always too bright. He finds it hard to focus suddenly.  
  
'What about the hair? Is he enlisting early or something?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'What about Daesung?'  
  
'What about him?'  
  
'Have you talked to him? Has Seunghyun talked to him?  
  
Seungri looks pained.  
  
'How should I know? I haven't talked to him for months'.

Jiyong eases off a little and scratches at the hem of his shorts. He hasn't talked to Daesung in months either. He sends letters when he remembers. He'll write to him, maybe.

'Okay'.  
  
Seungri watches him, disbelieving this pop-up interrogation might really be over. Jiyong raises his hands.

'I'm done,' he says. _'Sorry'._  
  
Seungri's eyes narrow but he shrugs and sits down, wheeling closer to the desk.  
  
'You know this was supposed to be about me,' he says. 'Today'.  
  
Jiyong swivels the chair around and kicks his feet up onto Seungri's knees.  
  
'I know'.  
  
'And you're coming back tomorrow so you can pay _attention_ to me?'  
  
'Yes'.

 

Seungri looks pleased after that like two hours of being a million miles away are forgiven, just like that.

Jiyong remembers Hyeong-bae's attitude from earlier and wonders if he's over it now. He doesn't know if he wants to see him or not. Either way, he'd rather not get sucked into a fight. Not today. Not after ---

'What's the deal with you two anyway?'  
  
Jiyong snaps back to reality. It takes him a moment to realise he's talking about Seunghyun.  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'I'm not having this conversation where you pretend you don't know,' Seungri says.  
  
'I just haven't seen him in a while, that's all. He took me by surprise'.  
  
'And?'  
  
'And _what?_ '  
  
Seungri groans and shoots Jiyong an exasperated look.  
  
'Can't you just answer my question?'  
  
'There's nothing to say'.  
  
Seungri groans and throws his head back.  
  
'Nothing?' he asks. 'When he left for Japan, he told me not to tell you. You, specifically. Just you. _Jiyong can't know,_ he said. _Not until I'm gone_. I couldn't figure out why. I thought maybe he was worried you'd follow him and tear him a new one. He was kind of breaking up the gang by leaving and you know how you get'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. What does _that_ mean?  
  
'But you were so upset when I told you he was gone _,_ I reconsidered. Maybe it was something else. I would have asked you but you disappeared for months on end and obviously wanted to be left alone,' Seungri says, taking a breath. 'You've been strange _all_ year and when I told you he was back, you didn't sound happy to hear it. I mean, you hung up on me. Now, you see him again and you spend the whole two hours either looking at him or trying not to look at him and the moment he leaves, you interrogate me'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach turns.  
  
'So,' Seungri says pointedly, slapping Jiyong's ankles in his lap. 'What's the _deal_ with you two?'  
  
'There's no _deal,_ ' Jiyong answers. 'It's nothing'.

Seungri looks churlish and Jiyong shrugs.  
  
'It's personal. If I could tell you all about it, I would'.

'Wow, you two are just peas in a pod,' Seungri says. 'Everything is personal. So what? I'm your friend. Just tell me'.  
  
'Sorry,' Jiyong smiles. 'I really can't'.  
  
Seungri shrugs, defeated.  
  
'Is it the same thing? This whole time? You didn't resolve it? It's been like … a whole year?'  
  
'Same thing,' Jiyong nods.  
  
'What did you do? Sleep with his girlfriend?'  
  
Jiyong straightens.  
  
'Why do you say that? Why would I fuck his girlfriend and not the other way around?'  
  
'He's the one who left,' Seungri says innocently.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and pulls his feet from Seungri's lap.  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong says. 'I'm the asshole. Me, me, me'.  
  
Seungri grimaces.  
  
'You know I didn't mean it like that. It was just a joke'.  
  
Jiyong brings the cigarette to his nose again and breathes deep. He needs to smoke. He looks at the small windows lining the ceiling above the far wall. Maybe if he stood on the couch he could open one ----  
  
'Don't,' Seungri says, intuitively.  
  
Normally, he wouldn't think about it. The risks outweigh the reward and it's only a three-minute walk to get to the courtyard where smoking isn't a punishable offence. Teddy lit up a cigarette in his studio once and the smoke detectors went off, rained on him, on half his equipment and the whole floor had to evacuate downstairs.  
  
'I _need_ a cigarette'.

Jiyong moves to the couch and stands on the armrest. He tugs the latch on the window and pushes it outwards but it's still too high. Only half the smoke will filter outside. He grabs a stuffed dog from the corner and sits it on the armrest. He kicks his shoes off so he can balance better and stands with one foot on the dogs neck and the other on its the ass.  
  
Seungri watches with a pained expression.  
  
'Like riding a skateboard,' Jiyong says.  
  
'Because you never fall off those'.  
  
Jiyong throws a wilting smile in Seungri's direction and lights his cigarette with a careful hand. He blows smoke out the window, hand dangling over the frame, the other clutching the wall for support.  
  
'You look ridiculous'.  
  
'Well I _feel_ better'.  
  
Seungri doesn't say anything after that and Jiyong lets the silence between them grow. He doesn't want to talk any more. He shouldn't have spoken at all. The vacant feelings from Seunghyun's appearance have shifted towards anger.

Fuck him. _Fuck_ him. _Fuck_ _him._  
  
Jiyong watches the clouds crawl across the sky and blows smoke out the window.

When the door swings open some time later, the sound startles him. The stuffed dog beneath him shifts and he loses balance. He only barely manages to land one foot on the armrest again. His wrist knocks on the window frame on the way down and takes some of the skin off. Jiyong winces and clutches at the wall with his free hand.  
  
'Sorry'.  
  
That _voice_ again.  
  
Seunghyun's standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression. What's new. That's just his face now. Absent and dumb. People who are sorry don't have a face like that. They have emotions.

Seunghyun watches him with a _look._ Some veiled admiration for his bravery or something like that. He was there when Teddy set off a panic with the smoke alarms and he laughed when Teddy came in the next day, tail between his legs. It's just accepted fact that you don't try and smoke inside.  
  
Jiyong smiles facetiously and turns away.  
  
He thinks about Seungri's 'joke'. _Did you fuck his girlfriend? Well he's the one who left ---_  
  
I didn't do anything wrong, Jiyong thinks. _He_ did. He's an _asshole._ _He'_ s an asshole.

_Fuck him._  
  
Jiyong holds his cigarette outstretched towards the window but he's too low now. The smoke is wafting towards the ceiling. He curses quietly and tries to wave it away.  
  
Seungri throws him a folder and Jiyong waves it around above him to break up the smoke. He takes another drag and tries to blow as much of it out the window as possible. He stands on the tips of his toes.  
  
Seunghyun speaks to Seungri, words Jiyong doesn't catch. He lets them talk. He clears his throat and grinds his teeth together to fill his head with noise. He doesn't want to hear Seunghyun's voice. He doesn't want to hear anything he says. He doesn't want him there, in the room or in his head.

Jiyong closes his eyes and smokes. Empty mind, he thinks. _Empty mind_.  
  
When he notices Seunghyun again, he's loitering near the door. He's gripping the door handle but he isn't going anywhere. He's looking at Jiyong like he wants to say something.  
  
'Is there something I can do for you?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Seunghyun shakes his head and then he's gone.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and turns back to the window, taking the final drag of his cigarette. It's down to a stub. Japanese-made Seunghyun is a lot like regular Seunghyun it turns out. They both have a penchant for leaving without a word. A lifestyle choice of undramatic exits. He blows the last breath of smoke out the window and puts it out against the window frame.  
  
Seungri is watching him.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'At least you're speaking,' he says.  
  
Jiyong flicks his cigarette butt in the trash.  
  
'Best friends'.

 

 

 

*

 

 

After Seungri's studio time is up, they part ways. Jiyong agrees to come back, same time tomorrow, then spends a while walking around the building, popping into rooms here and there to see people. He isn't ready to go home. He needs time to shake off the afternoon’s surprises. He feels vaguely ill and he tries to walk it off.

He slips into different emotions without warning and he tries after a while, to stay away from people. He hangs around downstairs and spends a while in the _'war room,'_ a tiny space with a table and some chairs. A kind of antiquated conference room with a poor name. It smells like new-car or stale air fresheners and Jiyong figures whichever wars were discussed in here, were probably lost.  
  
He lays back on the long seat and stares up at the ceiling. The roof is made up of perforated tiles that look like foam. His mind drifts to Seunghyun and he tries to spend his time productively by sorting through his emotional bullshit but it's hard to focus. His stomach feels off and his head light. He feels a swell of rage and then guilt, indifference and then hurt. Emotions breeze through him like an open door until he's so on edge, he _shuts_ the door. He blocks it all out.

His hands shake.  
  
He counts the holes on each tile above him. The first has 231 but the second 232. It takes thirty minutes for him to figure out how many holes cover the whole ceiling.

When his phone beeps in his pocket, Jiyong's filled with anxiety. Maybe it's _him_. Maybe Seunghyun's normalcy was an act for Seungri's benefit. Maybe seeing him in person has changed the rules of his game--- his avoidance and silence. Maybe something has shifted. It takes ten minutes for Jiyong to pull his phone out and read the message. It's not Seunghyun, it's Hyeong-bae.  
  
_'Sorry about this-morning. Will u be home for dinner?'_  
  
Jiyong feels momentarily relieved and comforted and replies, _'Yeah. Lets order in'._  
  
He takes a breath and the aching feeling in his gut subsides. He thinks about home and his bed, Hyeong-bae and Gaho and curling up on the lounge to a movie. He thinks about egg rolls or barbecued pork--- then he feels a swell of anger so violent, he sits up and throws his phone at the opposite wall as hard as he can.  
  
It splinters against the plaster and hits the ground in three pieces.  
  
A moment later, he's fine.

He picks up his phone, or the remnants of it. The back has popped off and the screen has shattered. The battery shot under a seat and he can't reach it. He pulls the sim card out of the phone and slides it into his wallet.  
  
He should go home.

 

 

*

 

 

 

When Jiyong makes it to the downstairs hall on the other side of the building, his headache has re-emerged. The pain in his gut seems worse and his fingers themselves seem to hurt. He heads for the parking lot but half-way to the door, sees Seungri on the other side of the one-way glass.

He thought he was gone. Seungri should have left an hour ago. He must have done what he did himself and hung around. Jiyong waits in the centre of the vacant hallway for Seungri to step off the curb and disappear into the lot--- but he doesn't. He doesn't go anywhere. He must be waiting for someone.  
  
Jiyong takes a few steps but stops. He doesn't want to talk to him again, not today. He doesn't feel well and the shards of phone in his pocket make him reluctant to be near anyone. Decided, he moves to the bench closest to the door and sits down. He can wait.

Jiyong crosses his legs and lets his head rest against the wall. His stomach is so unsettled, he can't tell if he's starving or genuinely sick. He likes the _idea_ of food. He wants _meat_ \--- he wants a drink. Pork and Soju. For the first time in a long while, the thought of alcohol isn't accompanied by a twinge of fear. Part of him just wants to drink and forget. He wants to sleep for a week and wake up new.

He watches Seungri through the glass. His arms are folded. He's leaning against one of the pylons that stop people driving through the building. He looks confident and carefree. He's not fiddling on his phone the way Jiyong does every time he's left alone or waiting.

Jiyong wonders who he's waiting for. A friend or a _girl_ friend. Does he _have_ a girlfriend? Jiyong tries to imagine this hypothetical girl. Older or younger? Famous or not? Korean or foreign? He dated a Japanese girl for a few months before it all went sour. That was a while ago now. He can picture Seungri with a younger girl, sweet and lively, someone he could look after and dote on, hold doors open for and umbrellas over. At the same time, he can see an older woman, confident and sensual – someone Seungri could play with and be challenged by.  
  
Thinking about it helps pass the time.

When Seungri eventually straightens expectantly and steps forward, Jiyong waits for the mystery girl's car to roll into view. That will tell all, won't it. If it's a friend, maybe they'll drive a Mercedes or a BMW. A younger girl will have a Lexus, an older lady a Porsche.  
  
What does roll to a stop outside the doors makes Jiyong rise to his feet like a siren-song pulling him to the rocks. If the car belongs to an older woman, she's got money. The kind of money that buys islands and elections and trips into _space_.  
  
Black and chrome, sleek and classic, it's beautiful. It's the stuff of dreams. It's all of life's goals and joys condensed into a car and the moment Jiyong sees the hood, he knows exactly what it is, how much it costs and the release date, which incidentally isn't for another month. A Bugatti Galibier. The _Royale_. Five door, 8.0L twin-supercharged W16 engine, chrome sides .  
  
Jiyong takes a step forward but stops himself. The urge to go out there and run a hand along the hood is so strong, it pushes earlier troubles right out of his mind. It's a materialistic cure-all. The problems he could solve if he owned one, if he could sit _inside_ one and run his fingers along the dash.

The driver door opens and Jiyong waits for the woman he expects to stick her head out and smile or wave Seungri in. Whoever she is, Jiyong loves her already, pre-emptively, he wonders how he can steal her away from Seungri --- just long enough to catch a ride somewhere.

It's not a woman's head that emerges above the top though, it's the back of a man's head, shaved and Jiyong would recognise it anywhere, from any angle. Seunghyun gets out and straightens up, resting a hand on the top of the car when he turns to face Seungri and by default, Jiyong --- standing twenty feet behind Seungri, behind the protection of tinted glass.

Jiyong takes a quick step back and sinks to the bench, clutching the polished wood.  
  
Seunghyun can drive.  
  
He can _drive._  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of something in his gut, a wrenching feeling of latent hurt that's becoming all too familiar. He always thought he'd teach Seunghyun how to drive, one way or another. Not getting the opportunity is a stupid thing to be upset about. He never even _wanted_ to. He was afraid of Seunghyun asking because he didn't want to hurt his feelings by saying no. All the same, not being given the _choice_ \---- this little thing was something he expected them to do together.  
  
How could Seunghyun go off to Japan and learn how to drive? After a decade of refusal, why now? Why on his own? They don't even drive on the same side of the road in Japan. He would have had to unlearn here everything he _learned_ over there. And a _Bugatti?_ He's driving a car Jiyong never, in a million years, expected him to drive, expected him to _want_ or even honestly, afford _._

It's another blow to Jiyong's already frayed nerves and he can't decide what he's more angry about; that Seunghyun can drive now, adding another item to a long list of unwelcome changes-- or that he's learned how to drive and had the audacity to skip an introductory car, leaping straight to a Bugatti.

Or maybe it's the other thing, the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounds like Seungri saying, _'he told me not to ask about it,'_ reminding him that there's something _wrong_ with Seunghyun, asshole or not.  
  
Seunghyun would never spend this much money on a car. He's not the type. He loves nice things, sure, but within reason and certain _types_ of things. His art and furniture and clothes--- all expensive but this? This is a nervous break-down car. Even if it does suit him--- even if everything about it reminds Jiyong _of_ Seunghyun. It's not right. He would never in his right mind, buy a Bugatti.

Foot-steps sound from somewhere up the hall but Jiyong's only half aware of them.

His head again, rests against the wall. He folds his hands in his lap.

He's in a dream.

Seunghyun _left_ him and became a different person. Jiyong's not sure how to feel anymore. It reminds him of people who find out their lovers are gay. It seems less heartbreaking somehow if someone leaves you because of something like that. If Seunghyun left him because he realised he was completely straight--- that would make it easier somehow.

He can't decide if this is like that-- if the fact Seunghyun left him and came back entirely new and different is easier somehow? Easier than him leaving and finding somebody new and hanging around every day, unchanged, the same person Jiyong fell in love with.

Maybe this shit has been a blessing.

Japanese-made Seunghyun is kind of like straight-Seunghyun, in a way. He's here--- and he's the future; one Jiyong's increasingly aware he's not a part of. Outside the glass doors, Japanese-made Seunghyun disappears out of sight and the door closes after him.

'He can drive,' Jiyong says quietly to himself, stunned all over again. 'He learned how to drive'.  
  
'Pardon?'  
  
The easy, familiar voice comes from only a metre or so behind him.  
  
'He can drive,' Jiyong says again, eyes on the doors.  
  
'Who?'  
  
A body sits down beside him, their arms touching.  
  
Jiyong turns his head for a moment to Hwangsabbu.  
  
'Seunghyun-hyung,' Jiyong says, nodding to the doors. 'He can drive'.  
  
'He caused a stir last week driving that in here'.  
  
'You know that's a Bugatti? He learned how to drive and now he has … a _Bugatti'._  
  
Hwang laughs at the tone of Jiyong's voice, like he can sniff out the jealousy and desperation and longing in it.  
  
'You should know all about the lure of luxury cars. How's your Lamborghini?'  
  
'I'm selling it,' Jiyong answers. 'It's too conspicuous'.  
  
Hwang makes a sound that's almost a laugh and Jiyong turns to him with a smile.  
  
'I mean, I knew it was conspicuous when I bought it, obviously. That's why I bought it--- but whenever I park it, I come back to a crowd of people taking 360-degree videos with their phones, like the car is a celebrity and it's not because it's _my_ car either,' he says. 'I can't drive it anywhere'.  
  
'You lead a hard life,' Hwang jokes.  
  
Jiyong shrugs and watches Seungri disappear into the car. The interior is brown--- probably all leather and wood panelling. Right up Seunghyun's alley.  
  
'Besides, I could buy three of four Lamborghini's for what that Bugatti would have cost. Do you know if he bought it? Is he leasing?'  
  
'Bought it, maybe’.  
  
Jiyong cringes.  
  
'Jesus'.  
  
He turns back to the doors and watches the car roll slowly out of sight.  
  
'That's a _really_ nice car,' he says, suddenly swept up in the desire to chit chat his life away. Nervous rambling maybe. 'I always wanted a Bugatti. I've never even sat in one'.  
  
'I'm sure he'll take you for a spin'.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Maybe he would. If he asked, maybe Seunghyun would say yes. Maybe all he has to do is talk to him, like the cigarettes. Straight-forward questions. Maybe Seunghyun will answer those. Either way, he wouldn't ask for a ride. Not unless he was bleeding out and in dire need of a ride to the hospital and even then.  
  
'Are you okay?'  
  
Hwang's voice isn't filled with concern as much as he's asking one of those straight-forward questions, like a Doctor. An unemotional enquiry.  
  
‘Fine'.  
  
Jiyong turns to a raised eyebrow and a familiar look of parental disbelief or exasperation.  
  
'What?'  
  
Hwang reaches a hand out towards Jiyong's chest and Jiyong flinches and pulls back instinctively towards the wall. Hwang stills his hand and Jiyong relaxes.  
  
'What are you doing?' Jiyong asks, uncomfortably.  
  
'Focus on your breathing,' Hwang says simply, no added information whatsoever.

'Why?’  
  
'You look anxious. Like you’re hyperventilating’.  
  
'You can't tell that by laying a hand on my chest,' Jiyong says, pointedly.  
  
'The hand is to focus you, not diagnose. I can _see_ your breathing. I can hear it when you talk'.  
  
Jiyong pauses and takes note of his own heartbeat. It's working overtime and he's breathing funny. He's been doing it for at least an hour. It's what's causing the horrible feeling in his gut like he's about to be sick or run to the bathroom. He's a step below hyperventilating. He feels light headed. It's a high-functioning panic attack in slow motion.  
  
'What's going on?' Hwang asks.  
  
Jiyong holds up his cigarettes.  
  
'I should probably stop smoking,' he jokes.  
  
Hwang takes his hand off Jiyong's chest and says, 'No, you're anxious--- but you're right, you should stop smoking as well'.  
  
Jiyong smiles and tucks his cigarettes back in his pocket.  
  
'That's a goal for my thirties. I can't achieve everything in my twenties'.  
  
He cringes after he says it and a minute passes in silence.  
  
Jiyong jumps as hand-meets-chest again, this time more domineering.  
  
'Sit up straight,' Hwang says, in that same commanding tone that used to tell Jiyong to run faster and do ten more push-ups. Obedience to _the voice_ is so ingrained, Jiyong does what he says and sits up straight.  
  
'Now take your right hand, forefinger and middle finger --- and tap on your eyebrow, like this. On the inside, near the nose'.

Hwang taps on his own eyebrow to demonstrate.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'Just do it,' --- and Jiyong _does_ do it, cursing himself all the while for a lack of self-control. Being told what to do by Hwangsabbu is like a company-wide game of Simon Says. He says to jump and you jump.  
  
'Harder,' he says – and Jiyong taps harder.  
  
'Now your hand _here_ '.  
  
Hwang shows him where, between the wrist and the base of the little finger.  
  
'Now below your knee here---- now your collarbone---- now do it again, each place for 10 seconds. Tap hard'.  
  
Jiyong stops half way.  
  
'Why am I _doing_ this?'  
  
'Keep going'.  
  
With a beleaguered sigh, Jiyong does until he's back where he started, wondering how hard someone is supposed to hit themselves in their own face because someone else says to. He looks at Hwang expectantly.  
  
'Better? Your breathing has slowed'.  
  
Jiyong's about to roll his eyes when he realises it has. In some ridiculous way, this exercise in humiliation has calmed him down a little.  
  
'Stress exercise,' Hwang says, explaining. 'Sometimes helps with anxiety'.

He slaps Jiyong's thigh and stands up.  
  
'I'm headed home now. I'll see you another day. Remember that exercise!'  
  
Jiyong mumbles his thanks and pulls out a cigarette once Hwang is outside.

 

 

 

*

 

 

When Jiyong finally makes it home, the lights are out in the lounge room where he expected Hyeong-bae to be. The television is on but there's no-one there. A western plays quietly on the screen, Korean subtitles line the bottom. Jiyong understands a few words but he's too tired to focus.  
  
He dumps his wallet and keys on the counter and stands in the kitchen for a while, in between one action and another. He's not sure where he wants to go or what he wants to do. He can't remember if there's something he _should_ be doing. He feels like there's somewhere he's supposed to be, only he can't remember where or why.  
  
It took him twenty minutes longer than usual to get home. He got lost --- his mind wandered and he couldn't remember where he was or which streets to take. He followed a green SUV for five minutes before realising he was headed in the wrong direction.

Eventually, he gathers enough sense to pull a glass from the cupboard and he takes some painkillers for his headache. The familiar action seems to pull him out of the quicksand and he comes, mostly, to his senses. He still has a feeling he's in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he pushes it aside and heads for the bedroom. He isn't hungry any more, he's just tired. Not enough to sleep, but enough to fall face down on a mattress and stay there for hours and hours.  
  
On the way to the bedroom, he hears a voice. There's a light on in the guest bathroom but the door is closed. Hyeong-bae's voice comes clearer through the door, the closer Jiyong gets.  
  
_'You're pathetic, you know that?'_

Jiyong instinctively goes for the door, hearing Hyeong-bae's voice, but as the words become clearer, his fingers still on the handle and he listens. Is he on the phone?

His voice is raised. He sounds exasperated.

_‘I'm done with you. I've put a lot into this relationship and what do I get in return? Huh? After everything we've been through, how can you act this way?'_

Jiyong frowns but doesn't move. He doesn't open the door. He just listens. Who is he talking to?  
  
_'Do I deserve this? No. I don't'._  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes and a sinking feeling forms in his gut. Hyeong-bae's next words come quieter, as a whisper.  
  
_'No --- no, you know what? That's not going to work on me this time'._  
  
An ache spreads through Jiyong's fingertips and his free hand taps on the other. It doesn't calm him like he hoped. It's a private conversation, one Jiyong isn't meant to hear, but with who? It sounds almost like Hyeong-bae's talking to a lov---  
  
He wouldn't cheat, Jiyong thinks. And even if he would, _when_? There's hardly enough time in the days Jiyong is at work for him to run off and find somebody else, let alone keep it a secret. All the same, it sounds like a lovers quarrel. Hushed tones in a shut-up bathroom while Jiyong is away, only he's not away. He's home now and Hyeong-bae doesn't _know_ that.  
  
The one-sided conversation continues and Jiyong's anxiety grows until he can't take it anymore. He's too tired, too lost, too upset and confused. His fingers close around the door handle and ---  
  
 _Splash._  
  
There's a quiet groan, a yelp. Another splash follows then Hyeong-bae's tired voice comes through the door, clear as a bell.  
  
'Stop _eyeballing_ me'.  
  
A bark.  
  
_Gaho?_

Jiyong turns the handle gently and pushes the door ajar, enough to peek through the opening. Hyeong-bae is kneeling on the floor, bathing Gaho in the bath tub. Gaho isn't cooperating. He wasn't on the phone, he was talking to the dog. A wave of relief washes over Jiyong so suddenly, he almost hits the floor. So tired and drained from his day, his nerves are frayed. His fingers are shaking. All the same, he smiles at the sight of them in the bathroom together. They're _safe_ and familiar.  
  
Gaho licks Hyeong-bae's arm and tries, impossibly, to lick his face.  
  
'I told you, it's too late. You had your chance'.  
  
Gaho barks loudly, mistaking Hyeong-bae's tone for play. He tries to lick his face again. Against all odds, he flops over the porcelain side and gets him on the mouth. Hyeong-bae recoils.  
  
‘Oh, fuck. Disgusting’.  
  
He wipes his mouth. He pushes Gaho's heavy body back into the centre of the tub and water sloshes from one end to the other. Hyeong-bae looks dismayed. He wipes his mouth again with the back of his hand.  
  
'I think you frenched me,' he says, disgusted.  
  
Jiyong _laughs_.  
  
Hyeong-bae's so startled by the sound, he almost falls over and Gaho, seeing Jiyong at the door, barks at 120 decibels and tries to jump out of the tub altogether.  
  
'Gaho _, no'_.  
  
Hyeong-bae wraps his arms around Gaho's middle to keep him planted in the bath and Jiyong looks at him pityingly. His shirt is wet from neck to hem. There are bubbles in his hair and halfway to the door. Hyeong-bae shoots him an endearing smile of thinly veiled stress.

'Where were you 15 minutes ago when I tried to get him in here?' He asks. 'It's like trying to wash a fat horse. Do you know how many sweaty fat rolls your dog has? An infinite amount, Jiyong’.  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer, he just smiles and closes the door on them. He hears some furious splashing through the door and Hyeong-bae's restrained voice again.

'Well that's where you get it from,' Hyeong-bae says. 'He didn't even say hello. Can you believe that? That's what happens when you're successful. It goes to your head. You start paying strangers to wash your dog and clip your toenails and take shits for you. Fame is a nasty business, my friend. You need a better role model, let me tell you. You’re not getting away with this rockstar behaviour anymore'.

Jiyong leans against the wall outside the door and listens to Hyeong-bae lecture Gaho like he's a child. Every so often there's a splash or a bark and Hyeong-bae's childish retorts to each growl and whimper, 'Is that so?' and 'I'm glad we're on the same page'.

Jiyong's eyes close. He takes slow, deep and measured breaths and waits for his anxiety to dissipate, but it doesn't. It breeds in his stomach and spreads throughout his body. It pools in his fingers and toes. He doesn't _feel_ well. Nothing feels right any more. Everything seems changed and he hates it.

Seunghyun's done this. By ignoring him, by pretending nothing ever happened, by coming back _changed_. Jiyong's suffering in a way he didn't expect and he can't shake this _feeling_ that he's invisible. That he's been displaced from his own life --- that Seunghyun's … _displaced_ him, taken away from him --- his memories and his anger and his ability to cope and move on.

He can't make it stop.

With Seunghyun's indifference and his normalcy, Jiyong feels erased and disconnected. Years of his life have _disappeared_ because with Seunghyun's avoidance, his detachment from everything they _were_ together, Jiyong's the only one who remembers it all. The only one who remembers movie marathons and shared take-away and lazy days in bed and that one month they instituted _pyjama Tuesdays_ and the smiles and the laughs and that feeling everything was going to be okay because there was someone around who loved him and who he loved.  
  
Those were some of the best years of his life and now there's no-one to validate them, to _acknowledge_ them. He can't ever speak about these memories again. He can only bury them.  
  
Seunghyun looked at him like he was a piece of furniture and spoke around him and then to him, like he was nobody. Seunghyun--- the love of his life. Jiyong's fingers tap blindly at his eyebrow and he tries to pull himself together but it's hard. He can't help remembering little things that Seunghyun did, places they went, things they wanted.

None of it seems real any more. The life they had seems all the less real now that he's seen him in the flesh. Through those glass doors, 45 minutes ago, Seunghyun stood on the concrete and Jiyong watched him and all these little memories started to fade. Did Seunghyun make that little yawning noise in the mornings? Did he cry watching _Up?_ Did he push mushrooms to the edge of his plate? Does he still do that? Did he _ever_ do it? Any of it? Maybe Jiyong saw it all in a dream. Maybe none of that was real. Seunghyun didn't seem to remember it. What's to say those things ever happened? That _any_ of it happened?  
  
Jiyong cries silently and he can't get a hold of himself.  
  
He's fine one moment and not the next.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

  
  
Seoul was thick with fog. Jiyong watched it hanging in the air from his balcony, the grey cloud approaching and receding like waves. He hadn't seen the air so filled in years and never this high. In the right weather he could look down on the city and tell himself the fog, way down below, was an ocean of clouds framing the base of each high. A city built in the sky, higher and higher up. No ground below, only clouds roiled gently by the wind.

Tonight, the fog climbed higher still. It inhabited the whole world, stopping at the ends of his toes. It covered everything except the faint light from the building across the street. The river was hidden and the bridge that spanned it. Headlights from the traffic below were imagined. For the first time in Jiyong's memory, Seoul seemed calm and dark.  
  
Looking over the balcony, the visibility was low. Two or three metres in any direction was all he could see with clarity. It was easy to fool himself into thinking a dive off the balcony would end with a soft landing. The fog below was inviting and Jiyong stayed where he was, fighting off the biting cold with a jacket so puffed up with insulation, it rustled every time he breathed. He blew smoke rings into the fog and took a photo for posterity. Mostly, he sat against the wall with his feet curled beneath him, chain smoking, fighting off sleep. Of all the ways to die, hypothermia in a cloud of fog was less glamorous than he imagined.

From the small gap of the open sliding door, unintelligible voices mingled with the wind creating the illusion of chattering bodies milling about in the fog. Gun shots rang quietly out and suspenseful music followed. Hyeong-bae was watching a western again. Jiyong wanted to close the door and shut out the noise but the outer lock was broken and if the door shut all the way, he'd have to knock on the door to get back in. If Hyeong-bae fell asleep, that was it. He slept like the dead. Jiyong's body would be found blue on the balcony the next day, his fingers helplessly frozen against the glass.

He cradled his head, a cigarette between his fingers, and tried to imagine his own movie that corresponded with the sounds from the television. It beat thinking about his life and all the reasons he was chain smoking on a balcony at 11pm. The fog wiped the city clean and his mind followed. Since he stepped out for a quick cigarette two hours before, he found it hard to concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two and that meant no Seunghyun, no work, no memories from the past, no anxiety.  
  
Half the time he'd spent outside he thought of nothing at all. Bits and pieces of songs played in his mind, the beginning of one morphing effortlessly into the end of another until he couldn't remember how the songs originally started and finished. He remembered TV commercial jingles and monologues from famous movies and the cast member names from a TV show long cancelled.

It was a fog-induced lobotomy and for a while, everything felt small and far away.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jiyong jolts upright, his heart racing. There is an ache in his fingertips.  
  
'I'm awake,' he blurts out.  
  
'Looks like it'.  
  
Hyeong-bae stands half-in, half-out of the sliding door, a smile playing across his lips.

'You fell asleep with a cigarette in your hand'.  
  
Jiyong looks at the cigarette below him, ember burning out against the concrete. That explains the ache in his fingertips. He burned himself. He mumbles a quiet _oops_ and puts the cigarette out in the ashtray on the ground.

'You know people burn to death like this. They fall asleep and then _poof_ , up in flames'.  
  
'If this balcony is so ill-constructed that I could burn to death surrounded by tiles and concrete, so be it'.  
  
Hyeong-bae steps out and closes the door behind him, raising a hand to silence Jiyong's budding reminder.  
  
'Leave it open an inch, yes, I _know'_.  
  
Jiyong smiles sarcastically and Hyeong-bae slumps down in the seat beside him, leaning closer for a kiss. Jiyong pushes his face out of the way and worms away from his touch.

'What?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'You think someone's watching? Were seventeen floors up and surrounded by fog'.  
  
'I don't want to sound paranoid but there could be a 15 year old girl in that building across the street with night vision goggles pointed this way'.  
  
'That doesn't sound paranoid’.  
  
Jiyong smiles and stretches his legs out in front of him. His feet have gone to sleep. The first stage of pins and needles begins in his toes. He rolls his ankles to try and stave it off.  
  
'There's a _reason_ I don't come out here during the day'.  
  
'Thank god, I thought you were a vampire'.  
  
' _Hilarious,'_ Jiyong croons. He rubs his tired eyes.

'Well,' Hyeong-bae says, 'a kiss would have been nice'.  
  
Jiyong turns to him with a smile.  
  
'Do I not show you enough affection?'  
  
'Not nearly enough'.  
  
'I let you watch a western tonight, instead of what I planned on watching. You don't know how good you've got it here'.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs and moves forward, sitting on the edge of his seat.  
  
'You're right. That was very nice of you. You're a nice guy'.  
  
Jiyong watches him, bemused. Hyeong-bae shrugs his thin hoodie off until he's left in the biting cold in nothing but a tank top. Jiyong opens his mouth to question his sanity but Hyeong-bae throws his hoodie over the arm-rests between them before he gets the chance. Moments later, Hyeong-bae’s bumbling hand burrows underneath it to find his.  
  
Hyeong-bae squeezes his hand, their interlocking fingers veiled by the hoodie.  
  
'We don't have to worry about this imaginary 15 year old girl and her night vision, fog-piercing magic goggles now'.

'You're going to freeze to death,' Jiyong says seriously, only momentarily shaken by the gesture and the warmth in his chest. He barely suppresses a grin.  
  
Hyeong-bae is silent for a few moments but then he cracks.  
  
'Oh God,' he whispers. 'It's so fucking cold, _Jesus Christ. Shit. Fuck'._

Jiyong snorts again and covers his face with his free hand, trying not to choke on his own laughter. Hyeong-bae's face contorts permanently in a look of barely suppressed shock. Jiyong squeezes his shaking fingers in solidarity, 'let’s go inside,' he says.

'In a minute'.  
  
Jiyong mumbles quiet remonstrance’s about him being a nut-job _and_ _if you die, I'm not responsible. Your body is going down the trash chute,_ He leans back, his eyes on the sky. He tries to find a star above the city lights. Eventually Hyeong-bae breaks the silence.  
  
'Are you going to work tomorrow?'  
  
Jiyong tenses involuntarily but sounds perfectly normal when he answers.  
  
'I don't know'.  
  
It's only half a lie. He can't imagine a world in which he'll _actually_ get out of bed in the morning and walk into work with his head held high, undaunted by the sight of Seunghyun's gaunt disinterested face, but there's always a possibility. Someone might call and ask him for him. Seunghyun might have flown to South Africa in the night making work safe again. Anything can happen, right?  
  
Hyeong-bae turns his head but Jiyong doesn't do the same. He keeps his eyes ahead of him.  
  
'What big bad thing is waiting for you at work?'  
  
'Excuse me?'  
  
'Why don't you want to go to work?'  
  
Jiyong sighs inaudibly and puts on a conciliatory smile.  
  
'I do want to go to work, I'm just tired, that's all. I need a few days to sleep it off. I think I'm coming down with something'.  
  
It's so convincing, Jiyong pats himself on the back.  
  
How long has it been since that day in the studio? Since a declined cigarette and a _Bugatti_ and a broken cell phone thrown against a wall? A week? Two? _I'm coming down with something alright,_ Jiyong thinks. _Common sense._ He's not ready to be ignored by Seunghyun and he's not ready to confront him. Staying away is safe. It's the only way he can do this. It's the only way he can be okay.  
  
'It's been a week and a half and you're fine, _'_ Hyeong-bae says gently.  
  
'Are you a doctor?'  
  
'No. You're a bad liar, that's all. It's written all over your face. You're not sick or tired. You're fine'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his hand out of Hyeong-bae's and folds his arms across his chest. He tries to keep that same conciliatory smile on his face, the one that says, _'I'm okay with this conversation, this is okay, we're okay, everything is fine'._  
  
'I thought you'd be happy I was spending more time at home,' Jiyong says petulantly. ‘You’re always making snide comments about how much time I spend at work’.  
  
'Whoa,' Hyeong-bae says. 'Dial it back. I'm not staging an intervention here, I'm just ---'  
  
There's a pause.  
  
'What?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'I don't know, Jiyong. I'm your fucking boyfriend or … _whatever,_ ' Hyeong-bae says quietly. 'I'm all ears if you want to talk to me. If you're having problems at work or with something else, I'm here. That's all I was saying'.  
  
He sounds exasperated but he doesn't leave and for that reason alone, Jiyong pushes aside his childish frustration and takes Hyeong-bae's hand, outside the veil of the hoodie that had hidden them before.  
  
'Thanks'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks at their intertwined fingers, surprised at Jiyong's pda, even shrouded by impenetrable fog. He squeezes Jiyong's hand and turns to face him.  
  
'You don't want to talk about it?'  
  
'Nope'.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods, shrugs and settles back against the wall but Jiyong sees him shivering despite the facade he's put forth like he's invulnerable to the cold. Jiyong can see his jaw is clenched and his entire body tense from trying to stop himself shaking.  
  
'We're going inside,' Jiyong says. 'Before you die out here'.

Hyeong-bae nods rigidly, like his entire body has frozen in place. Jiyong helps pull him to his feet. Hyeong-bae moves to the inviting warmth of the door but Jiyong stops him, a hand on his frozen arm.  
  
'Wait a second--'  
  
Hyeong-bae turns, cringing, his teeth one step away from chattering out of his skull. Jiyong pulls him down by their still intertwined hands and kisses him gently on the lips. For a brief moment, Hyeong-bae stops shaking, his free hand moving to the base of Jiyong's skull. His lips are soft and warm, the only warm part of him left. After, Jiyong presses their foreheads together with a veiled smile.  
  
'I like you,' he whispers.  
  
'I like you too'.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Later in bed, after a shared shower and gentle ministrations with a warm cloth, and more than a dozen veiled laughs from Jiyong after each, ' _I think my balls went up inside me,'_ from Hyeong-bae's slowly warming lips --- Jiyong lays in bed, with an arm over Hyeong-bae's waist (who decided one night he liked being the little spoon) and thinks about telling him everything.  
  
He doesn't want to go to work because Seunghyun is there and once upon a time he loved him and thought he was loved in return. They lived together and said _I love you's_ in the dark. They laughed and cried and planned holidays they never took and made playful jests about introducing each other to their families as more than friends. Then, Seunghyun left him—and in his absence, someone else came along who slowly made everything alright again.  
Except everything is broken now, because Seunghyun is back, and despite having a perfect boyfriend who freezes on balconies and washes his dog, Seunghyun stirs up feelings and memories that make the world complicated again.  
  
Not to mention the odd lie here and there--- _you weren't really my first boyfriend, but I let you believe you were. I told a lot of lies when I first met you because I didn't think I could trust you, but maybe now I do. I want to tell you everything but I know you'll be angry with me._

Jiyong's fingers tighten around Hyeong-bae's waist and he presses his forehead against his warm broad back. He synchronises their breathing and wonders what would happen if he did tell him. The whole story, from the very beginning.  
  
Gaho shifts at his feet and waddles a foot to the left so he can plonk down on Hyeong-bae's feet and that stirs an ache in Jiyong's chest. Gaho never slept on _Seunghyun's_ feet. Gaho trusts Hyeong-bae enough to choose him on occasion, over Jiyong himself. That’s irrefutable proof of his being able to trust somebody, right? He passes the dog test and almost every other test Jiyong can think of. If he was a girl, Jiyong might have taken him home and introduced him to his family.  
  
He wishes things were simpler.  
  
Hyeong-bae makes a quiet sound followed by a drawn-out yawn.  
  
'You're still awake?' Jiyong whispers.  
  
'No, I'm sleeping'.  
  
Jiyong moves out of the way while Hyeong-bae rolls over to face him. He yawns again and Jiyong follows suit, rolling his face into the pillow.  
  
'Hi,' Hyeong-bae whispers.  
  
'Hi'.  
  
'Can't sleep?'  
  
A few minutes later, Jiyong's telling Hyeong-bae as much as he can bear, which is so little it makes him feel ashamed of the lies he's told, but Hyeong-bae cajoles him into spilling his guts because _you'll feel better, trust me_ and maybe he will.  
  
'That work problem I had--- It's this guy I used to know,' Jiyong whispers. 'I haven't seen him in a long time. He left the company for a while and I got on with my life but he came back suddenly'.  
  
Hyeong-bae tries to liven himself up for the conversation but it's dark and the bed so warm and Jiyong can see that he's tired, so he gives him the cliff notes and it's surprisingly easy to open up.  
  
'We used to be close but one day, without warning, we were like strangers,' Jiyong whispers. 'He cut himself out of my life. And now he's back. We were in the same room for two hours the other week and he treated me like I was nobody. Like we were never even friends. I spent all this time wondering what I did to him, you know? Wondering what it was about me that made him grow tired of me but I still don't know. I don't know what it was about me that he started to hate? I don't know what I did. It drives me crazy'.  
  
As he talks, he feels a weight lifted, however slight. It feels better to talk about it than it did to lock it away. As tired as he is, Hyeong-bae is listening and he gives a shit, somehow and that gives Jiyong more courage to deal with it all than he had before he opened his mouth. It's not a lot, but it's something.  
  
'It's not so bad when you slowly grow apart from someone,' Jiyong whispers, 'or if you have a fight or there's a definite reason for splitting with someone, but I didn't do anything? And it was overnight? One day we were great friends and the next day, it was over’.  
  
'Ouch,' Hyeong-bae murmurs.  
  
'I don't want to be at work. I don’t want to see him all the time, because it makes me feel like a child. It's embarrassing to think I had all these feelings and thought we were best friends when obviously it was one sided. It's humiliating. I don't want to see his asshole face, you know? It seems easier to just stay at home until he grows old and dies'.

'That does sound easier,' Hyeong-bae says quietly. '60 short years and you can have your life back'.  
  
'Exactly'.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses Jiyong softly on the forehead and whispers a genuine, _sorry,_ that makes Jiyong glad he unburdened himself, even if part of him feels like a fraud for all the half-truths. Then he gets the parental tone of authority and wisdom he knew would come eventually, which was maybe the reason he spilled his guts in the first place. Hyeong-bae had a certain-- common sense.  
  
'Go to work tomorrow. Say hello to this guy and get on with your day'.  
  
'Wow, I never thought about doing _that,_ ' Jiyong yawns sarcastically.  
  
'That's option one,' Hyeong-bae says with a suppressed sympathy-yawn. 'Option two is you confront him. Pull him aside and say, _hey, welcome back. I kind of miss our old friendship sometimes but things change, I guess_. Let him know that old relationship was important to you, without having to turn into a blubbering mess. Either way, you save face. You're playing it cool but still dangling on the hook an option to rekindle your old love affair'.  
  
Jiyong flinches at the choice of words.  
  
'Option three is you go to work and punch him in the balls. After all, he's treated you like shit and he's obviously a dickhead. When he's writhing around on the floor, stand over him and say, _'I'm G Dragon bitch, nobody puts baby in a corner!'_

_'What?'_  
  
'Dirty Dancing? You need to brush up on your classic cinema'.  
  
'Are those all my choices?'  
  
'Option four is what you suggested. You stay at home until you turn old and grey and hope he dies first so you don't have to worry about having an awkward conversation at work'.  
  
'I like it'.  
  
'Option five,' Hyeong-bae says, 'Is you go to work and wing it. Deal with things as they come. If something upsets you, be upset. If something pisses you off, get angry. Just see what happens and do what you gotta do'.  
  
'Gross,' Jiyong mumbles.  


 

* * *

 

 

Three cups of coffee and a pep talk later, Jiyong is cradling his head in the studio wondering why, in his beleaguered state, he let Hyeong-bae's cool tone of authority lead him to work. Choice sits to his left, tap-tapping at the keyboard with a sporadic click of the mouse and every few minutes Jiyong wakes up enough to offer an opinion on the looping melody playing through the speakers.  
  
'Not like that,' he mutters. 'Up higher'. He raises his voice to a high note and la-la-la's the tune, dipping to a low note at the end. 'And the bass starts after that. The _duh-dum-dum-duh_ \-- and then after that, back up high'.  
  
Choice looks sceptical so Jiyong offers a weary nod, 'Just do it so I can hear it'.  
  
The chosen adjustments come through the speakers moments later and Jiyong cringes, slumping down in the chair. He pulls his beanie down over his eyes and folds his arms across his chest.  
  
'Well,' Choice says. 'That sounds like shit'.  
  
'Yeah’.  
  
Choice swivels in his chair to face the wall behind them. Jiyong hears the squeak of his new shoes against the polished floor and braces for another unwanted back-and-forth involving their uninvited guest.

'What about you, bookworm? Thoughts?'  
  
Jiyong's fingers tighten around his biceps and his teeth grind together with such force, he thinks a little push will send them down into his jaw.  
  
'I don't know,' Seunghyun answers, cool, calm, confident. 'Maybe keep the start lower and then take it up by gradations? Take it to that real high note only after the chorus. I think it might sound better lower at first, getting higher towards the end like a slow crescendo’.  
  
The shoes squeak, the chair creaks and the mouse clicks its own little song at Choice's hand. A few minutes later, the adjustments play back and it sounds leagues better than any previous attempt to get the beat down right.  
  
'That's way better,' Choice says, and Jiyong knows he's talking to him, even through the veil of beanie over his eyes.  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong mutters.

He bites down the twenty scathing additions to that _yeah_ and his teeth meet again, grinding against each other to prevent him saying something he shouldn't.  
  
The day moves on much the same way, with trial and error and the occasional unwanted input from Seunghyun, who has chosen _this_ studio of all rooms to read a _book_ in, as though a room with electronic beats hammering through the walls has a real library atmosphere.  
  
Jiyong is certain enough that Seunghyun planted himself in this room to annoy him personally. To make him uncomfortable with his easy tone and his whole aura of ' _I don't give a shit'._ Jiyong does his best to ignore him. Seunghyun's quiet 'Hi,' when he first entered the room was met with resolute silence, but he didn't seem to care or notice. Since then, Jiyong hasn't acknowledged Seunghyun's being there except through Choice.  
  
He tries to remember Hyeong-bae's options for dealing with this. He spends all day weighing up between _punching him in the balls_ and _waiting until Seunghyun grows old and dies_. Taking things as they come seems unproductive because that's what he's doing now and it hurts.  
  
It really hurts.

Eventually, Choice yawns and the mouse slides over the desk. He's throwing in the towel.  
  
'I'm beat. I've been here all day. You two are on your own'.  
  
Jiyong watches helplessly as Choice gathers his things and signs off with a tired wave at the door. Jiyong waves after him as the door slowly closes, leaving him alone with Seunghyun, sitting quietly on the lounge, an open book propped against his crossed legs.  
  
_'Great'._  
  
Jiyong moves to the vacated seat.  
  
If Seunghyun hears, he doesn't say anything. In fact, he doesn't say anything for thirty minutes. The only reminder of him being there at all is the occasional flipped page, so Jiyong works. He flips through his notes and crosses lines out and adds new ones. He plays the music through twenty times over, mouthing potential lyrics to the beat.

Eventually, in a quiet moment, Seunghyun speaks.  
  
'Listen to this'.  
  
It's been so long since either of them have spoken, Jiyong is startled by the intrusion and loses his place on the page, his stream of thought disconnected. The lyrics he was penning down turn to dust in his metaphorical hands and he struggles to get them back.

He turns, lips pursed, the lyrics forgotten. The first half of a fluid verse put on paper and the ending _gone,_ just like that, because Seunghyun opened his stupid fucking mouth. Jiyong, red faced, moves to kick him out but Seunghyun's words come first.  
  
'She was a personality before she was entirely a person,' Seunghyun says, reading from his book, his finger following the paragraph in question. 'And, like anyone to whom that happens, she is in a sense the hapless victim of what others have seen in her, written about her, wanted her to be and not to be'.

He doesn't say anything after that and Jiyong doesn't either, too flustered by his own anger and Seunghyun's interruption. The angry words get stuck in his throat and he can't get them out. He's suddenly overcome with resignation. He's too tired for a confrontation. Maybe he'll always be too tired.  
  
Seunghyun's benign presence suddenly stretches out for Jiyong, into a long future of them being together like _this_ , side-by-side, their whole relationship forgotten. He doesn't have it in him to bring up their relationship if Seunghyun doesn't. Something inside him, some cowering fragile thing inside him makes it impossible. He's scared. He's scared of being insignificant and forgotten. He's scared of being humiliated any more, scared of someone he loved hammering the final nail in the coffin.  
  
So he doesn't say all the things he wants to say to Seunghyun. He just gives in. They were never together. There was never love, never friendship, only this --- quiet politeness. Aloof. They are --- _acquaintances._  
  
'Who's that about?' Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
Seunghyun turns the page, 'Joan Baez'.  
  
'I don't know who that is'.

‘She was a folk singer in America in the 60's. She was political, I guess'.

Jiyong's stomach aches and he tries to look interested but the pain wracks his body. He's known Seunghyun for half of his life and it's all come down to _this._ Seunghyun reading a passage from a book about someone Jiyong's never heard of, and what for? Why read it at all? To make sure Jiyong knows this is what they are now? To make all the more obvious the things that _aren't_ being said?  
  
Jiyong slumps in his chair.  
  
This is how Seunghyun feels about him. This is his answer to their situation.  
  
All the same, the passage he read was good, in a way. _The hapless victim of what others have seen in her?_ _Or wanted her to be?_ Jiyong felt like that sometimes. The victim of what other people wanted him to be.  
  
'It's a good description'.  
  
Seunghyun hums agreement.  
  
'Does that remind you of anyone?' he asks.

They make eye contact and Seunghyun looks so earnest, Jiyong is sucked in for a moment. He almost looks like a real person.

_Maybe it reminds me of me,_ Jiyong thinks.  
  
'What do you mean?' he asks.  
  
'Us?'  
  
Jiyong wonders who Seunghyun means by _us_. The two of them? Twenty-something's everywhere? Big Bang? Celebrities the world over?

'She was a personality before she was truly a person,' Seunghyun repeats himself, not reading from the page this time. He's memorised it.

'You don't think you were a real person before you became famous?'  
  
'I was nineteen,' Seunghyun answers. 'No-one's a real person when they're nineteen'.  
  
He talks as though they do this every day, like Jiyong is his oldest and dearest friend and they're talking on a balcony somewhere drinking scotch, ruminating about life and the past. In another universe it mightn't be so funny.

The problem with Seunghyun's words is--- Jiyong remembers Seunghyun at nineteen. He was happy and open and fun, and a presence in everyone's life. Jiyong remembers clearly how _real_ he was. More real then than he became later, obsessed with improving himself and moulding himself into this image he had in his mind of _the perfect man._ When he was nineteen, Seunghyun was organic. He was a product of his environment, the natural conclusion to two decades of parenting and schooling and experimentation. He was as real as anyone else.

Seunghyun turns back to his book and says, 'I'm not sure I'm a real person, even now'.  
  
He doesn't mean anything by it and for that reason alone, Jiyong doesn't scoff or laugh or get angry with him. Seunghyun isn't trying to sound self-pitying or morbid, he's just telling the truth. He doesn't feel like a real person. So what is he instead? Someone who inhabits the same space Seunghyun used to inhabit.

'What is a _real_ person?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, non-committally.  
  
'I don't know. I guess you'd know if you were one'. He looks up and asks, 'Do _you_ feel like a real person?'  
  
His gaze makes Jiyong uncomfortable and he isn't sure what to say.

'I don't know,' Jiyong says. 'Most of the time'.

Seunghyun watches him for a while like he's mulling over his answer, scrutinising all of its possible meanings. Satisfied, he goes back to his book.

Jiyong watches him a while longer and wonders what it was that knocked all the sense out of Seunghyun's head. It seems pointless to talk about shit like this instead of what they should be talking about. But maybe this is what's important to Seunghyun. Being un-real. Maybe the only thing that _ever_ mattered to Seunghyun was himself and how he _felt_. Maybe Jiyong was only ever useful to him for a while, and when he wasn't any more, Seunghyun just left him behind.

Turning back to the desk, Jiyong says, 'Maybe you'll feel like a real person in another ten years'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer. He makes a noise that could be disappointment like Jiyong's said the wrong thing. Like he missed the point of what Seunghyun was trying to share. Jiyong feels momentarily like a disappointment and it makes him angry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After that, things stay the same and yet --- get steadily worse.

Jiyong sees Seunghyun around in bits and pieces, in groups and on his own and the unerring stress of his constant presence begins to take its toll. Jiyong's discomfort evolves into something else, a malignant nausea in the pit of his stomach that gets worse with each encounter.

The times they run into each other, Seunghyun asks questions periodically like, 'Where is such and such' and Jiyong answers, through his irritation, _'the toilet,'_ or _'downstairs'_. If Seunghyun drops something Jiyong picks it up out of habit. He says, _'thanks'_ and Jiyong comes back with a tired, ' _yeah'_ or a nod.

Seunghyun never for one moment reminds Jiyong of the person who left him and in a way that makes it easier to be around him, nausea notwithstanding. Jiyong can't allow himself to wallow at home any more than did before Seunghyun's return, so he stays at the office and keeps his schedule mostly but Seunghyun does too. He doesn't seem to _do_ anything. He shows up in the morning and goes home in the afternoon and wanders about doing God knows what between 9 and 5.  
  
A fortnight passes and Jiyong goes from someone stressed and wounded to something else entirely. Something half dead and frayed at the edges, every part of his life slowly coming apart at the seams. He goes home angry and yells at Hyeong-bae for little things because it's somehow easier to scream about a light left on than it is to yell at Seunghyun for breaking his heart; easier to hurt someone who likes him than to be hurt all over again by someone who doesn't.  
  
Hyeong-bae believes Jiyong's inevitable pleas for forgiveness and his weak explanations about stress and the people at work making his life more difficult. Seunghyun continues to be Seunghyun; detached and oblivious and maybe a little empty and un-real.  
  
The nausea Jiyong feels soon becomes something more disruptive and once or twice a day, he'll dash down the hall at work into a bathroom stall, or burst through the doors of his apartment without closing them behind him so he can get to the bathroom all the faster to be sick. The nausea builds through the day until the sight of Seunghyun or the sound of his voice or an unexpected memory can tip the scales and bring up Jiyong's breakfast or lunch.  
  
Eventually, it's easier not to eat at all.  
  
He becomes moody and quiet and always tired, _too tired_ for this, _too tired_ for that. Hyeong-bae's jokes aren't as funny, his hugs as comforting or their talks as satisfying. They get along but barely. Hyeong-bae notices it all but he perseveres and Jiyong's probably not good enough for him, in the long run. If he leaves, Jiyong will understand.

He hasn't left yet though.

Hyeong-bae suggests they go on a short holiday, but how can he? He goes to work instead and in Seunghyun's company thinks about all the places he wants to be. Venice, Berlin, Morocco maybe. Somewhere new and exotic where people won't recognise him. Places he can't be because Seunghyun is here so Jiyong is also. Tethered.

If he leaves, he's running away from this problem and a hotel facing the water won't fix it. Laying on a beach in the sun won't fix the gnawing feeling in his gut or the misery. So Jiyong stays because sooner or later, this has to be resolved, _doesn't it?_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jiyong wakes to the sound of a bell. A quiet tinkling sound that doesn't fit in his dream. There's a rattle and a scratching and the _ring ring_ of the bell and ---

_'Come on, in you go'._  
  
The door clicks shut and Hyeong-bae groans, strained.  
  
Jiyong opens his eyes to Gaho's behind, legs furiously kicking to try and escape Hyeong-bae's hold as he's lowered into the bathtub. He's filthy. There are brown cakey paw-prints leading from the door to the porcelain tub. The faint smell of mud and rain lingers in the air. They must have gone for a walk.  
  
Jiyong lifts his head and his cheek peels off the warmed plastic of the toilet seat.  
  
_'Oh,'_ he mumbles.  
  
Hyeong-bae ignores him and turns the taps on, getting down onto his knees. His sleeves already rolled up for the fight he's about to endure. Jiyong rests his head on his forearm and watches Hyeong-bae's adept dog washing skills. By now, he's fine tuned the whole process into a ten minute routine that Jiyong's never managed to accomplish himself.  
  
Gaho fights for the first minute, but the remaining nine go painlessly. He looks like he enjoys it. He lets Hyeong-bae cover his eyes and pour warm water over his head. He's filled to the brim with trust and Jiyong smiles faintly.  
  
'How long have you been here?' Hyeong-bae asks without turning around.  
  
'Not sure,' Jiyong answers, his voice croakier than he expected. He remembers dry heaving until his throat ached but it doesn't hurt any more. The raw feeling is gone. 'What time is it?'  
  
'Five'.  
  
He's been asleep on the toilet for _two hours._

He had a good day, mostly. The nausea barely registered. He watched a movie with Hyeong-bae, messed around in the home studio and made a few phone calls he'd been putting off. He was productive, if anything.  
  
The urge to be sick took him by surprise and he was unsuccessful either way. There's nothing in the toilet and he doesn't remember throwing anything up. There's nothing left in his body to _bring_ up. He's hardly eaten in days, which has had its pros and cons. Pro – no throwing up. Con – he's so tired, he can fall asleep anywhere. Including the bathroom floor, using the toilet seat as a pillow.

'You can't keep doing this,' Hyeong-bae says.

He sounds tired and fed up and Jiyong understands his frustration but what he's going through isn't a choice. He doesn't like it either. If he could make it stop, he would.  
  
'I'm not doing it on purpose,' Jiyong answers, irritated. 'You think I like throwing up all the damn time?'  
  
He pulls himself up off the toilet and rubs his tired eyes.  
  
'I don't know,' Hyeong-bae says. 'You obviously think this is manageable or else you would have dealt with it by now'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You keep saying this is stress related, right? So deal with your stress. You're obviously _not_ dealing with it. If you were, you wouldn't be dry heaving at 4am every night or falling asleep in the shower or behind the wheel. You could have died the other day, you know that? _Died._ Or killed somebody else and what for?'  
  
Jiyong makes a quiet sound and presses down against his closed eyes.  
  
He fell asleep when he was driving. Just for a moment and there was no-one on the road. It was _fine_ , but he made the mistake of telling Hyeong-bae and they fought. They were doing that a lot lately and Jiyong knows it's his fault but ---  
  
'What can I do?' He asks quietly.  
  
'Whatever it takes,' Hyeong-bae says angrily, turning to face him. 'For Gods sake, fucking deal with this. Get a therapist if you have to. You obviously don't want my help, so those are your two choices. Deal with this on your own or see a professional! And soon! Like _tomorrow!_ '

Hyeong-bae turns his attentions back to the dog.  
  
_A professional._ And say what? He's too fucking scared to have a single conversation with Seunghyun? So scared that he'd rather starve and be sick than have to look him in the eye and ask questions he doesn't want the answers to?  
  
Just the thought of it makes his head ache and he doesn't know why, but it is what it is. It shouldn't matter that Seunghyun doesn't love him and never did because two feet away is an amazing guy who's there for him, even now. Who holds him at night and tries to cook sometimes, who washes his dog and cleans the house and looks after him when he's sick. A guy who is still there in the mornings and nights when Jiyong comes home, instead of across an ocean.  
  
It shouldn't matter what Seunghyun says and could say but it does.  
  
Jiyong tries to get up but his legs won't work so he stays where he is, sulking against the wall.  
  


 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, Jiyong almost burns the house down.

He falls asleep while smoking on the couch and it's only Hyeong-bae's quick thinking that stops the whole place from going up in flames. The rug catches fire and Hyeong-bae puts it out by folding the corner over and stamping down on the budding sparks.  
  
Jiyong wakes in time to see the corner catch alight and sits motionless on the couch, unable to say or do anything to stop it. When Hyeong-bae leaves the room minutes later, he doesn't say a word and he doesn't have to.  
  
Jiyong knows.

  
* * *

 

 

 

 

With an empty bag in the passenger seat and rain beating down against the windows, Jiyong slumps down in his seat, watching the occasional car drive past, headlights piercing through the veil of rain.  
  
With his hands on the wheel and his seatbelt still on, he sits in his car for 45 minutes, staring up now and then at Seunghyun's apartment, wondering if he's home or if he'll leave while he's still sitting here, cowering in the car, unable to walk up those twenty-two stairs.

It took a few days in bed, of eating here and there to build up the strength and the courage to make a move. At times, mostly late at night, he thought knocking on the door and demanding answers was the easiest way. Get it over and done with fast, like ripping off a band-aid. Then, morning would come and reality would settle into his bones and he knew he couldn't do that. Not in any universe could he knock on that door and ask for the answers he knew he deserved.

So--- the empty bag in the passenger seat.  
  
Unless Seunghyun has thrown them away, some of Jiyong's things should still be in the apartment. A toothbrush, some CD's, some clothes and pyjamas and God knows what else. He can't remember. It's been a long time but he never took home any of his things after Seunghyun left. Only once while he was gone did Jiyong take something back with him and that was just a pair of slippers he couldn't bear to live without.

So--- if nothing was thrown away, there should be enough of his things inside to justify knocking on Seunghyun's door with a bag.  
  
_'I've come to get my things,'_ he'll say.  
  
He rehearses it in his mind. The intonation, the look on his face, how he'll hold the bag. He counts down in his mind twenty times but each three-two- _one_ sparks a feeling of sheer terror that starts him up again at thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight.  
  
_I'll get out of the car in twenty-seven, twenty-six_ \----

He procrastinates so long that his stomach begins to ache and not from nausea for once, but hunger. So, mercifully, he starts up the car and heads back down the road. Maybe he can get some food? People like food, right? Maybe he can knock on the door with some Chinese food and say, _'Hi there, I brought some food and I've come to get my things and this is okay. This doesn't have to be awful'._  
  
So, twenty minutes later, he's back where he was, only this time a plastic bag full of cardboard containers sits steaming on the passenger seat. Noodles and beef and chicken and rice. A peace offering.  
  
Only, it's not until he's sitting there, stomach roiling with hunger that he remembers Seunghyun's gaunt face and his extreme weight loss and the obvious fact that he has a problem with food again. Seunghyun isn't eating. He won't eat this greasy food.  
  
Jiyong groans and rubs his tired eyes and contemplates leaving altogether but how can he? How long can this go on? So, disaster or not, Jiyong grabs his bag and the takeaway alike and ducks out of the car and up the stairs, trying to escape the still-falling rain.  
  
Two minutes later he rings the bell and Seunghyun answers.

 


	14. Chapter 14

  
  
  
Seunghyun opens the door looking a little worse for wear with dark circles beneath his eyes and wrinkled clothes hanging off him in places they've never hung before. It makes Jiyong feel less terrible for bringing food. It is a peace offering but maybe medical aid too. Seunghyun looks like he is about to keel over and die. The vultures are circling.  
  
'Hi'.  
  
Seunghyun's eyes glance off Jiyong to the landing outside and back again as though he's waiting for a camera crew to poke their head around the corner. The victim of a game show prank where haunting visions of the past show up on your doorstep to harangue you at 5pm.  
  
'Hi,' Seunghyun says warily.  
  
Jiyong holds the bag of takeaway in the air and offers a conciliatory smile. 'I brought food,' he says. 'And a bag? I've come to get my things'.  
  
Recognition lights in Seunghyun's eyes and he nods.  
  
_'_ Right, okay'.

He moves to let Jiyong in but doesn't get far. His words are cut short and his tone changes abruptly. He barks out a sharp remonstrance.  
  
_'Hey---'_

Seunghyun darts forward, his hand stretching out between them, trying to grab hold of something. A dark shape moves past Jiyong's legs and he stumbles to get out of the way as it circles his right foot and disappears behind him. It's a dog.

_'Grab it,'_ Seunghyun urges, his voice high and desperate.  
  
Jiyong looks helplessly around him and sees the dog at the stairs, pausing at the top only to figure out the motions for getting down safely. With a hesitant outreached paw and a leap of faith, the dog makes it to the second step and gains confidence, making it down another twice as fast.  
  
A strangled pleading noise comes from Seunghyun's direction and Jiyong drops the bags in his hands and dashes down the steps, two at a time, cutting the small dog off at the last second on the bottom step. It tries to side-step him but Jiyong kicks a leg out and manages to get his hands around it's middle as it tries the other direction.

It's just a puppy, eight or nine weeks old. Seunghyun's front yard, or what qualifies in his neighbourhood is no place for a dog this small or adventurous. Both security gates beyond the stairs have spaces large enough at the bottom for even a medium sized dog to shimmy through. Beyond the gates are the street and cars and every dog-owners worst nightmare.

Jiyong tucks the dog into the crook of his arm and shakes some of the rain from his hair. The dog seems undaunted by the rain, too caught up in the adventure of being outside. They make it back to the top of the stairs and Jiyong sees the bag of food busted open, its entrails scattered across the landing.  
  
He winces and Seunghyun offers a conciliatory apology.  
  
'Sorry about the food'.  
  
'It's fine,' Jiyong answers. 'I don't think either of us were touching it anyway'.  
  
Seunghyun reaches his arms out and Jiyong hands over the delicate package, tail wagging, head reaching around in all directions.  
  
'You got a dog,' he says.  
  
'It's my sisters,' Seunghyun answers. 'She dropped it off last night. She's going away for a few days and I'm supposed to look after it'.  
  
Jiyong spares a brief smile at Seunghyun's obvious helplessness and ineptitude.  
  
'Good job so far'.  
  
Seunghyun grimaces.  
  
'Thanks for catching him'.  
  
Jiyong nods and picks his flattened duffel off the landing. Seunghyun seems to remember what he's there for and steps aside so Jiyong can enter. As he passes, the dog squirms, thrashing its body about. Seunghyun makes a pained sound, trying to restrain it. He kicks the door closed behind him and drops the dog in the same movement, its tiny black body racing down the hallway out of sight.

It comes back seconds later and does a lap around Jiyong's legs before disappearing the same way, out of sight. All of a sudden, it's quiet and still and the smile on Jiyong's face retires. Without the distraction of the dog, he remembers why he's there and he feels vulnerable, like at any moment Seunghyun will say or do something to twist the knife in his gut.

Seunghyun runs a hand over his shaved head, hair slowly growing back, a thin layer of dark bristling hairs moving beneath his fingers. He looks tired and worn out and oblivious to Jiyong's presence or how and why this might be uncomfortable.

Jiyong isn't ready to have this conversation. He isn't ready to bare his soul to someone who isn't _seeing_ him. Seunghyun is so unphased by Jiyong's presence, he yawns and rubs his tired eyes like he's ready for bed.

Jiyong feels like his insides are trying to cut their way out of him and Seunghyun is a little _tired._

'Are my things still here?' Jiyong asks, breaking the silence.

'Everything is where you left it'.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

  
Everything _is_ where he left it, just like Seunghyun said.  
  
His toothbrush is in the cup on the sink, his razor in the cabinet, his cologne beside Seunghyun's cologne. Everything is just as it was, as though he were coming back for it one day. As though he'd reoccupy this apartment and he _could_. It would be so easy to slip back into his old routine. Every touch and sight and smell is still so familiar. It's easy to imagine the last year has been a dream.  
  
His pyjamas are in the third drawer down, his shampoo in the shower, his shoes still in the bottom of the closet. Everything, the whole of his old life comes back to him. It overwhelms him.  
  
He sinks down on the bed and picks a box of meds up off the side-table, perched on the base of a lamp. Valium. He shakes open the box and a sheet slips out. One small round familiar pill left un-popped.  
  
He throws caution to the wind and expired or no, pops it on the back of his tongue. He leans his head back and swallows.  
  
This would all be so much easier if he could drink, if he had stumbled in here drunk, arms waving wildly, fingers pointed, knocking things off counters. _Why, why, why?_ He'd drawl, safe in the knowledge that what happens drunk, stays there. Alcohol is a suit of armour and he needs one, now more than ever. He needs protection from this.  
  
What did he think was going to happen when he came here? What was the plan? Collect some old things and then what? _Explain yourself. You broke my heart. Being around you is suffocating._  
  
Jiyong puts the flattened box beside him on the bed and looks out the glass doors that lead on to the balcony. He remembers shared cigarettes at night, their faces buffeted by the wind. It was never safe to be out there in the daylight. Everyone in the neighbourhood was wealthy and kept to themselves but there was a chance all the same of someone watching.

The ashtray on the table outside was a gift from a fan. It had a cartoon picture of Seungri sitting on the bottom, papered between sheets of glass. Seunghyun laughed when Jiyong showed him then went and showed it to Seungri. Seunghyun put a cigarette out on his cartoon face to tease him.  
  
'Don't do that,' Jiyong said.  
  
'It's okay,' Seungri answered. 'Top-hyung should keep it. He smokes so many cigarettes, he'll be looking at my face 24 hours a day'.  
  
Jiyong laughed and Seunghyun mock laughed and somehow the ashtray survived and found its way to Seunghyun's balcony. Jiyong never put his cigarettes out on cartoon-Seungri, only on the rim and when he thought Jiyong wasn't looking, Seunghyun did too. Cartoon Seungri saw a lot in his time.

Jiyong wonders if the ashtray is still out there. Seunghyun doesn't smoke any more, _maybe he got rid of it._

Jiyong half stands to check but sits down abruptly.

Maybe it's better not to know. Even if the ashtray _is_ out there, it doesn't belong to him. Not now. He doesn't feel right taking it away and he doesn't want to ask for it. The ashtray is made of memories and he knows deep down how easily Seunghyun would give it up.

Jiyong pulls open his own side-table and finds things he expects and some he doesn't. The side-table drawer of someone in a stable and comfortable relationship. There are condoms, a few pens, some headphones. There's a packet of painkillers and a hastily drawn map on a scrap of paper. There's a worn notepad with pages coming away from the spine.  
  
Jiyong flicks through the pad and sees lyrics scribbled at 3am, phone numbers and names, addresses to friend’s houses and procrastination doodles, pen stick figures at the bottom of each page – doing gymnastics or fucking or riding stick figure horses that look like dogs. At the end there are pages of games he and Seunghyun played in the early hours before finally going to sleep. Fifty games of noughts and crosses and twenty games of hangman. Jiyong would pass the pad and pen across the bed and Seunghyun would inevitably sigh or call him a cheater or draw an alligator eating a small bobble-headed Jiyong.  
  
Jiyong scoffs quietly at a drawing of a figure sleeping, mouth wide open. He's never seen it before. It's only the caption that makes the disproportionate face distinguishable as his own. It's a terrible drawing. There isn't a single bone in Seunghyun's body able to draw but Jiyong runs his fingers over the raised lines with a smile because it's cute in a way. It's nice that Seunghyun sat there for however long and was happy to just watch him. Seunghyun was like that once, wasn't he.

Wasn't he?

Jiyong drops the notepad back in the drawer and pulls out a few rings he hasn't seen in a year. Bulky chrome hearts pieces he eventually grew tired of. He slips them on his fingers and holds his hand out in front of him. The ring on his forefinger slips off when he waggles his fingers and it rolls under the bed.  
  
Jiyong sinks to the floor, rifling blind with a flattened hand to try and find it. With only an inch or two between the mattress and the floor, there's barely enough room to search. He flattens out on his stomach and lifts the quilt to peer into the dark. He tries to find a shade of black that's different to the rest but gives up soon after. Seunghyun will find it when he moves house and ten burly removalists have to pull his king size bed apart.

A quiet sniffling draws Jiyong's attention, shuffling closer from the other side of the room. It sounds like a pig sniffing something out. Jiyong moves on his hands and knees to the end of the bed and comes face to face with the dog, who rolls onto it's back the second it sees him. It watches him expectantly, waiting for a hand to rub its little belly.  
  
Jiyong obliges, feeling unwillingly brighter. The dog stretches out and rolls a little way to one side and then the other so Jiyong can rub every prime bit of belly-territory. It closes its eyes, like it's having the time of its life and Jiyong suddenly misses this. He misses Gaho when he was small and energetic. He misses loving something small and dependent. Something that _needed_ him. He's still cooing and smoothing his thumbs over the dog’s soft cheeks when Seunghyun's voice startles him.  
  
'Why didn't you get your stuff while I was gone?'  
  
The dog thrashes wildly like an upside-down turtle at the sound of Seunghyun's voice, forgetful, momentarily. It can't remember how to get to its feet. It moves one way and then the other, testing the waters. It's back on its feet in no time, sniffing around Seunghyun's toes.

Jiyong sits back, arms reaching out for something that isn't there any longer.

'Because it's rude to come into another person’s house when they're not at home?' he answers, brushing his hands on his shorts. He climbs to his feet and hauls the bag over his shoulder. It's almost bursting at the seams.

'You didn't come here when I was gone?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Jiyong edges his way past Seunghyun in the doorway and moves down the hall, trying not to think about the many times he came here while Seunghyun was away. He moves slowly, the dog darting in between his feet with each step. He's glad for the distraction but the dog disappears again soon after. He picks a plate off the kitchen counter and asks, _'are these mine or yours?'_  
  
'You paid for them'.  
  
Jiyong contemplates taking the plate or agreeing on some arrangement where he gets everything back that he ever contributed money towards but he doesn't want to be that person and he doesn't actually want anything here. Coming over wasn't about his things, it was just something he needed to do.  
  
'I know you came,' Seunghyun says, 'when I was away'.  
  
Jiyong puts the plate down but doesn't face him.  
  
'I told you I _didn't'._

He moves past the kitchen and eyes the walls and floor, the coffee table. He looks for something to grab, something to take attention away from Seunghyun's voice. Something he can shove in his bag or ask about to make him _stop._  
  
'When I first got back the place had been cleaned up. Shirts put away, the bed made, everything dusted'.  
  
Jiyong turns suddenly. His voice escapes him.  
  
'What do you want from me? What do you want me to say? That I came here? Of _course_ I did. I came here all the fucking time! What did you expect? Jesus Christ'.

The words surprise him and with this one brief outburst, he finds himself a little stronger. His weakness and insecurities temporarily supported by his anger and hurt pride.  
  
'You didn't tell me you were going, Seunghyun. I didn't know what happened to you. I had no answers. I couldn't contact you. Where else was I supposed to go? I fucking _lived_ here. This wasn't your apartment, it was _our_ apartment. I had a right to be here!'

Seunghyun's animation disappears. There's no follow up question.  
  
'Are you satisfied by that answer?' Jiyong chides. 'What was the point of that? To _embarrass_ me?'

'No,' Seunghyun answers quietly. 'I just ---'  
  
_'What?'_

Seunghyun falters, his mouth moving like a fish underwater. Nothing comes out. He can't find the words or he can but won't say them.

Jiyong turns away in anger but it's quickly displaced. A movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention and in moments, his anger is subsumed by laughter. He tries to stifle it but he can’t. Seunghyun follows his gaze and in moments, they're both laughing. Seunghyun's deep full laugh fills the room and Jiyong struggles to find the air to calm down, each laugh broken up by a breathless wheeze and a choked down sob.

There's a hat on the ground. A wide-brimmed black hat that could belong to either of them. It's on an angle, the back tilted off the ground with a small black tail peeking out above the rim. Every few seconds, the hat shuffles forward a foot and stops.

The dog.

The hat moves slowly but erratically around the corner, following the sound of their laughter, bumping occasionally into a piece of furniture and finally Jiyong's leg. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Jiyong crouches down and lifts the hat off the small dog, who looks disoriented from the whole experience but quickly recovers, jumping up against Jiyong's knees, tipping him over.  
  
Jiyong wipes his eyes and rides out the last of his laughter while scratching behind the dog’s ears. Seunghyun reaches down and picks up the hat, sitting it on the counter.  
  
'I guess he found the closet’.  
  
'That's the first time you've called the dog a _he_. You kept calling it _'It_ ,' Jiyong notes.  
  
'Yeah well, he was here not five minutes last night before he pissed on my bed. I didn't feel like being chummy with him'.  
  
'You're such a grinch'.  
  
'He kept me awake for hours _._ Every time I tried to go to sleep, he was pushing against my spine, trying to get me to roll over so he could take my spot'.  
  
Jiyong looks up at him thoughtfully but doesn't say anything. Seunghyun used to have a dog of his own, before it went to live with his mother, the way Jiyong handed Gaho off to his parents for a year or two when he couldn't be responsible for him. He remembers Seunghyun loving dogs, but maybe that was all pretence. He used to name every dog he saw on the street, only half the time he got the breeds wrong. Jiyong rarely corrected him. Whatever possessed Seunghyun to act like a Dog whisperer, Jiyong let him have it. Smiles and laughter or not, he doesn't seem like that old dog-lover any more. Maybe he's given up the whole ruse.

Jiyong clears his throat and pats the dog on its behind to get it to wander off. He climbs to his feet and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He could use some air.  
'I need a cigarette'.  
  
'You'll have to go outside,' Seunghyun says. 'My sister will sniff it out and lecture me. You can go out the lounge-room doors. I've cleaned up out there'.  
  
'You cleaned up the junk balcony?'  
  
Seunghyun had two balconies. One off the bedroom that faced the inner street in his elite gated community and a second on the other side of the house, closed in by a surrounding wall. It was the only way to get some air and privacy at the same time, but the same week he moved in, every unwanted thing Seunghyun didn't want to drag down the stairs seemed to end up on the balcony until Jiyong suggested the doors remain permanently closed, lest the rats undoubtedly living in the heap tried to claw their way in.  
  
'There's a table and chairs out there now'.  
  
When Jiyong sees them, he snorts and pulls his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. The table is an old night-stand with paint peeling off every surface from the weather. A hole has been chipped away in the top and an umbrella sits in the space, dangerously slanted to one side. The chairs are old dining-room chairs in a similar state of disrepair.  
  
'Wow,' Jiyong says, patting around for a lighter. 'You've outdone yourself'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles a sly smile and closes the door behind them. It's stopped raining now, but the seats are wet and the table too. It's bitterly cold outside but the wall shields them from the wind. It blows over the top of the enclosure, whistling loudly as it passes.  
  
Jiyong wipes as much water off the seat as he can and sits down, grimacing at the moisture seeping into his pants. He kicks his feet up and rests them on the wall, lighting his cigarette.  
  
Seunghyun sits opposite him and asks for a cigarette. Jiyong hands the packet half over before pausing.  
  
'I thought you quit?'  
  
'I did'.  
  
'Am I undoing months of abstaining?'  
  
'I had a cigarette last night, so you needn't feel any guilt'.  
  
Jiyong hesitates but hands him the packet with the lighter tucked inside.  
  
Moments later they're both sending light plumes of smoke into the air. They sit in silence for a while.  
  
'Why did you quit smoking anyway?' Jiyong asks, noting the absence of an ashtray. Seunghyun flicks his ashes onto the cement so Jiyong does too.  
  
'I don't know,' he answers. 'It seemed like there were more important things going on at the time. I forgot to smoke one day and then the next. Then a week had gone by and I thought, _'what the hell'_.

_More important things going on._ Jiyong wonders what those things were and if he fit into them at any point. All the rage and hurt he felt coming here is gone now. The distraction of the dog has changed the dynamic between them. The mood of the visit is calmer now. Easier, in a way. The dog and its distractions have bridged some of the gap between them that beforehand seemed impassable.  
  
Either way, Seunghyun is alluding to something that happened in Japan. Some _more important things_ in his life away from home and away from Jiyong.

'What did you do in Japan?' Jiyong asks, eyes on the wall.  
  
'Not much,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong looks across at him thoughtfully.  
  
'People said you were working at YGEX. You were working on some music?'  
  
'People say a lot of things'.

Seunghyun doesn't speak after that and Jiyong doesn't either. They sit in silence, facing a stuccoed grey wall, dark clouds drifting slowly overhead. Jiyong finds patterns in the wall, faces and malformed bodies and characters spelling words that don't exist. He tries to fit them into sentences in his mind. He doesn't think about Seunghyun or what to say to him. He doesn't think about the smell of his cologne crossing the table, even now through the wind. He doesn't think about the way he felt at the pivotal moments of their falling apart. It all seems stupid now, in hindsight. Sitting here on Seunghyun's balcony, elbow on a night-stand, staring at a wall. All the fear and the embarrassment and the hurt, but mostly the fear.  
  
Seunghyun is just a person.

Now more than ever, sitting here in silence, staring at the same grey wall. He's just a person. Not an idea, not the idealised perfect man that Jiyong had built him up to be in his mind. Not the heartless monster Jiyong blamed and feared on lonely nights. He's just a person.

Jiyong sighs and kicks the butt of his cigarette across the balcony, massaging his aching neck with both hands. Seunghyun's chair scrapes across the concrete and Jiyong's almost surprised to hear his voice.

'How have you been?'

Jiyong spares a glance across the table. He isn't sure if Seunghyun wants to know or not or if he's just asking out of politeness. Either way, Jiyong answers honestly. It's so murky and glum and cold on the balcony, all the fantasy of the situation is gone. They're just two people at the wrong end of their twenties, sitting on wilting shitty seats in the fading light. There's no reason not to tell the truth.  
  
'Me? Stressed. Awful. I almost set my apartment on fire. I’m not sleeping well, so I fell asleep smoking. The rug caught fire’.  
  
'Shit'.  
  
'Yeah. It was the second time actually, but the first time I fell asleep, I was outside. The cigarette fell on concrete so I didn’t die in a fiery blaze’.  
  
'Is this a habit of yours now?'

Jiyong pulls another cigarette out for emphasis and lights it, taking a long drag with his eyes on the darkening sky.  
  
'No. It's a new development'.

He offers a cigarette to Seunghyun but he declines.  
  
'You should probably stop doing that,' Seunghyun says, referring to Jiyong's string of near-misses involving sleep and flames and ash.  
  
Jiyong smiles and pauses, cigarette an inch from his lips.  
  
'Yeah, well. It's _you_ , isn't it'.

_It's all because of you._  
  
Seunghyun clears his throat but doesn't say anything and Jiyong takes his time, letting the silence between them grow while he takes a few deep, calming drags of his cigarette. The wind whistles overhead and billowing gusts sometimes come from nowhere to drown out their voices until each word has to be timed just right to be heard.  
  
'You know, I found an old notepad in my bedside table,' Jiyong says. 'It was mostly full of lyrics and scribbles, phone numbers. That sort of thing. But there were games in the back. We used to play noughts and crosses when one of us couldn't sleep, and hangman sometimes. Do you remember that?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'I liked doing that,' Jiyong says. 'It made me feel like we understood each other'.  
  
Seunghyun is silent.  
  
'There was a drawing in there, of me sleeping. It was terrible. _Really_ terrible, like a kid drew it. One who had an accident and had their hand maimed so the pen had to be taped to the stump where their fingers used to be. It was total horseshit. It was the worst drawing I've ever seen'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly despite himself.  
  
'And you drew that,' Jiyong continues. 'And looking at that, I felt loved, I guess'.

A bird caws somewhere overhead and Jiyong leans his head back to watch what sky is still visible. The outside lights will come on soon automatically.  
  
'There were a lot of times I felt that way. Too many, probably'.

Thunder rumbles around them from somewhere close by and a distant flash of lightning illuminates the sky for the briefest moment. It's going to rain but Jiyong continues, suddenly filled with this _memory._ This one bright memory amongst a thousand others that are fading and only half there. All of a sudden, he wants to get it out. He wants _this_ memory to exist in the world. He doesn't want it to disappear like all the others. If he can just get it out, then Seunghyun will remember and this one memory will go on existing for a little bit longer.

'I remember this party we went to,' Jiyong says, ‘a long time ago. I remember the view from the balcony. We were in someone's apartment, I guess. I was wearing this hat covered in glitter. You were dressed in these black jeans so tight you could hardly walk. You had a black shirt on. Your hair was messy. You looked really good’.  
  
Jiyong looks down at his lap and scratches at the hem of his shorts.  
  
'I was so drunk. It didn't take me long. I remember you went to the bathroom and I got this terrible idea in my head. I waited a minute and then followed you. The second you opened the door, I pushed you back in. Do you remember that?'  
  
Seunghyun makes a quiet sound of affirmation.

'I locked the door and I kissed you. You looked _so_ good. We'd been laughing all night, you and me. We were having so much fun. I remember feeling so many things when I looked at you. I thought a few minutes alone with you would calm me down. I had this feeling everyone could tell I was into you, like I was staring at you or smiling at you too much. So, I locked the door and I kissed you. You didn't want to. It was too risky, but the door was locked and I leaned against it and said, _'It's fine. No-one can see us. Just indulge me for a few minutes_ ' --- and you did. I was so happy,' Jiyong smiles. 'It was the perfect night. Being in public with you and getting away with that? Making out with you in somebody else's house? I thought that was great'.  
  
Jiyong looks over and Seunghyun has a small smile on his face but he's staring at the ground and the smile is more sad than anything else.  
  
'Anyway,' Jiyong says. 'I remember afterwards, you looked in the mirror. You were covered in glitter. That shit from my hat got all over me and when we made out, it got all over you too and you freaked out. You thought everyone would know. That we'd leave the bathroom together and a crowd would have formed and the second the door opened they would see your face and know _everything_. I tried to brush it off your face and your shirt but it wouldn't come off and you got upset. I shoved you in the shower and turned the cold water on'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly.  
  
'Water had to get it off, right? It was so fucking cold, you couldn't speak at first. I felt bad so I got in after you and we both got soaked. I kept telling you I had a plan, it was going to be okay but you didn't believe me'.

'But it was,' Seunghyun says. 'Somehow --- we got away with it'.  
  
'I told you we would'.

There was no glitter left after the shower. No incriminating evidence to suggest their faces had been more than usually close together. They dried themselves off as much as they could but left the bathroom still wet, clothes clinging to their bodies. Jiyong said, 'follow my lead,' and when they re-emerged in the midst of the party Jiyong said to the first person who asked, _'There was an incident,'_ and went to the bar to get a drink.  
  
And that was it. Those four words spread and no-one questioned them or asked why they were both damp, trailing droplets of water all through the house. It was just one of those things people who didn't know him thought Jiyong was likely to do. Some rockstar behaviour explained away. Like the passage Seunghyun had read from his book, he was _the hapless victim of what others wanted him to be and not to be_. He could get away with anything.

But that wasn't why Jiyong remembered the party, it was something else. Some brief moment that he couldn't quite remember. Some small thing in the midst of the excitement that had gotten lost.

'After that,' Jiyong says, 'I was sitting at the bench in the kitchen watching someone pour me a drink and all I could think about was you. I sat there and I told myself, ' _Don't you ever forget what he just said to you. Remember this moment. It's important. Remember it'_ \--- because you said something to me. Somewhere between locking the door and coming back out again, you said something to me but I don't remember what? Isn't that funny? I remember telling myself to _remember_ \--- but not the rest. I don't remember what you said to me? I don't remember what was so important’.  
  
'I said a lot of things that night'.  
  
'No one thing more memorable than the rest?'  
  
Seunghyun folds his arms and leans back in his chair.  
  
'In the bathroom?'  
  
'I think so'.  
  
'I said you were stuck with me,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You were fucking around in the shower. You tried to shampoo my hair when I wasn't looking. It went in my eyes.' Seunghyun says, gesturing towards his face. ‘I snapped, and you said you were sorry. I said it was okay. You being a huge pain in the ass didn't change the way I felt about you. You were stuck with me'.  
  
'And I asked you how you felt,' Jiyong cuts in, remembering. 'And you said ---'

'It's not nothing,' Seunghyun says.

Jiyong laughs quietly.

_'It's not nothing,'_ he repeats. 'How romantic. I wanted to remember that for the rest of my life'.

Silence spreads between them again and an ache forms in Jiyong's gut. It leaches out into his chest and suffocates him. It feels like death, growing inside him, hollowing him out. It hurts and the pain surprises him.

'I felt loved that night,' Jiyong says quietly. 'In a room full of friends and strangers, sopping wet on a bar stool --- that was the most loved I'd ever felt'.

He hears the rain before he feels it. After the first few moments, the distant sound of rain growing faster and heavier finds its way to his arms, drops of rain hitting his shoes and legs and hair. A lone droplet hits his cheek and runs down his face. Thunder rumbles again, louder than before.  
  
He stands up, not wanting to wait for Seunghyun's lead. He pulls open the sliding door and says quietly, 'I don't feel like that anymore, but you already know that'.  
  
He ducks inside, pushing his cigarettes into his pocket. Seunghyun loiters outside for a few moments, unmoving, lingering in the rain, but eventually he follows.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The dog is wakened from his place by the door and trails Jiyong to the kitchen counter where he left his bag. Jiyong succumbs once again to the shown-off belly and hesitates, rubbing the pink swathe of skin peeking through all that scruffy black.

Seunghyun passes them both and moves out of sight into the kitchen beyond. The refrigerator door opens and the familiar sound of a bottle being placed on the countertop follows.

'What's the dog’s name?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Seonggye'.  
  
'Because he's black?'  
  
'Well, it's not the fact he lives underwater,' Seunghyun answers drily.

When Jiyong stands, Seunghyun has already downed half a glass of wine. He finishes the rest in seconds. Before Jiyong can speak, Seunghyun's pouring himself another. After the second, he notices Jiyong's attentive gaze.  
  
'Do you want a drink?'  
  
'No. I don't drink any more'.  
  
Seunghyun pauses at that and looks at him inquiringly.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'None of your business'.

'I guess not'.

Jiyong isn't warmed by the sight of Seunghyun's third glass slowly disappearing inside him. It's one thing about him that hasn't changed. He is still as near to an alcoholic as someone can be before attending AA meetings.  
  
When they were together and Jiyong was hopelessly in love, he printed off sheet after sheet about alcoholism and planned this extravagant intervention-like talk with Seunghyun. It never happened, of course. He didn't want to upset him and Seunghyun was high-functioning. He was never a _bad_ -drunk so what harm did it do for him to drink? He had regular check-ups and his health was okay and the worst that ever happened was a cry and a brief fit of depression.  
  
Besides, Jiyong wasn't a picture of sobriety himself. Even if he didn't drink himself to sleep the way Seunghyun did, he wasn't far off some nights. It makes him uncomfortable to think about all that. It rouses unpleasant memories and old concerns and worries and doubts.  
  
He needs air again.  
  
It would be easier to leave.  
  
'Look, I only brought this one bag with me,' Jiyong says, holding up his duffel. 'But there's still things here I've left behind. I don't have the space'.  
  
He says it, intending to follow up with an idea to come back another day for the rest, but Seunghyun raises a hand to stop him going further.  
  
'You have bags in the closet'.  
  
A part of Jiyong feels disappointed at Seunghyun's eagerness to have him out. So eager to see his things taken away. All the vestiges of Jiyong's presence here, removed. Maybe it's better to collect it all now. Maybe it's better to walk out the door and never come back. Sever all ties.

'Oh,' he answers. 'I guess I'll get the rest of my things then'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, looking morose.  
  
'I'm not going anywhere,' he mumbles, glass to his lips once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Back in Seunghyun's room, he finds bags on the top shelf, secreted behind shoe boxes long forgotten and a pile of sunglasses the world hasn't seen in vogue for a decade. Most of them are Seunghyun's and Jiyong spares a quiet laugh at some of the gaudy plastic frames he used to wear with _swagger_. Hip-Hop had never been so fluro.

He fills two bags with the rest of what's in the closet that belonged to him once upon a time. Three pairs of shoes, some leather sandals, some slippers shaped like bear paws. There's the shirt he wore during their first stage as Big Bang. Jiyong can't remember how it ended up here instead of in his own house or at his mother’s where the rest of the clothes he couldn't bear to throw away were kept.

He finds some CD's in a drawer that belong to him but leaves them for Seunghyun. There's a book or two he fully intended to read but never did. He finds dozens of small things he didn't realise Seunghyun had kept over the years. The more Jiyong searches in every crevice, the more aware he is that this could be it. This could be the last time he sees these walls, the last chance he has to say goodbye to this place he feels connected to, even now. Bits and pieces seem to appear from nowhere, trinkets and papers that want to be found.

Memories long forgotten and other memories too, things from Seunghyun's life that Jiyong has never seen or even wondered about. There's a letter from Seunghyun's father beneath a pile of shirts in the third drawer down. It's aloof and distancing. There's love there, but it's held at arms-length. The tone makes Jiyong distinctly uncomfortable but here it is, secreted away. Kept. Preserved.

He finds a stuffed bear in a shoe box, presumably from Seunghyun's childhood. It smells like him, faintly. There are letters from his grandparents before his grandfather passed. Poems scribbled erratically on napkins and receipts in handwriting Jiyong doesn't recognise.

After a time, he puts everything away, knowing more about Seunghyun and less at the same time. It doesn't matter now. He'll never come here again, they'll never sit on that balcony and share quiet cigarettes in the fading light.

There's a certain kind of finality to them now.  
  
Yeah, he'll walk out the door without answers because he couldn't ask the questions, but that's okay. Coming here was enough. Something has changed in him, however small and that's enough for him to get through each day without falling asleep with a cigarette between his fingers and that's all he could realistically have hoped for when he first knocked on Seunghyun's door. Anything else was fantasy.  
  
Jiyong moves back to his bedside table and picks up that old notepad with the noughts and crosses and the midnight games of hangman and he tears out the page with Seunghyun's drawing. He's taking the notepad but not that picture.

He zips up his bag and takes one final look around the room. He had a lot of late nights in this bedroom, a lot of early mornings and those in between. Those times they would both get home at midday and fall face first onto the mattress, shoes and all. He sat on the edge of that bed once and told Seunghyun he loved him-- and once, Seunghyun said it back.  
  
Jiyong skirts around the bed and pulls Seunghyun's bedside drawer open, slipping the folded drawing inside. Seunghyun's drawer is pretty empty, Jiyong can't resist a peek. There are painkillers and sleeping tablets, a pair of headphones and an ipod. There's a sheet of medication Jiyong doesn't recognise the name of. He takes a picture with his phone and means to look it up later. He quietly moves pieces of paper out of the way, little note-to-self's and childish to-do lists. There's a chopstick wrapper with lyrics penned lengthways and a pack of gum that makes the whole drawer smell of spearmint.

And there's a photograph.  
  
And only seeing a quarter of Seunghyun's face and nothing more, Jiyong reaches for it with shaking fingers because he knows what's out of sight. He knows this photo. He knows it because he's in it, because he has a copy just like it somewhere, hidden away with the rest of his things kept hidden from Hyeong-bae's eyes. The things he kept separate from his new life.  
  
Jiyong pulls the photograph out of the drawer and holds it in his hands, fingers brushing over the creases dividing the photo into four worn sections.

He _took_ this photo.

They were younger then, a few years. He and Seunghyun were together but they were still a few months away from, _'I love you'_. They were together but things were still a little vague. They slept together and had sleepovers and held hands in the dark and the sight of Seunghyun's face entering a room made Jiyong's heart beat a little faster. Sometimes Jiyong caught Seunghyun watching him with a face he understood because he looked at Seunghyun the same way.  
  
They were in the bathroom of Jiyong's room at his father’s pension. Everyone else in the group had gone with him at one time or another to check the place out and have a few days of R &R. Seunghyun was the last. He was always the last.

They posed in the bathroom mirror, Jiyong holding the camera at chest height to get them both in shot. He wanted a photo to remember their weekend by and after a lot of nagging, Seunghyun complied.  
  
Jiyong smiles at the photo because he remembers taking it. He remembers how he felt, he remembers where they were moments beforehand and what happened moments after.  
  
In the photo, Seunghyun's lips are smacked firmly against his cheek, arms tightly held around his shoulders, like a child bursting with affection. On his own face is a grin so wide he barely recognises himself. They look younger than they were.  
  
It's a childish, blurry photo but at the time Jiyong loved it because it showed who they were, deep down, beneath all the glitz and glamour and occasional moments of not quite fitting together. Most of all, he loved the photo because silly as it was, he could see the love in it. It wasn't a naïve crush or some way to pass the time. Even unspoken and confused, Jiyong felt they really loved each other. He wore it on his sleeve. It woke him up and put him to sleep. Seunghyun was everything and until he wasn't there, Jiyong didn't realise the extent of it.

This photo was important.

It _is_ important.  
  
The photo is worn and the creases leach out in all directions like it's been folded and refolded and been carried through a war zone.

_Seunghyun kept this photo._

Seunghyun left him and disappeared and _broke_ him and came back and treated him like shit but all the time, he had _this_ photo.

Jiyong's stomach turns. He holds his stomach unconsciously at the suggestion of what it means for Seunghyun to _have_ this. What it means to have these fold marks and the paper so worn down. This isn't a photo lost in a drawer, this is a photo that's been used and reused, taken somewhere and looked at and lived with.  
  
It wasn't here when Seunghyun was away, Jiyong searched every drawer of his apartment for answers. Every solitary drawer and nook and cranny. He would have seen this photo. _It wasn't there._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Seunghyun sits at the bar with a hand on the counter, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of a wine glass, his face shielded by his free hand. His head is supported, fingers winding around his eyes to protect him from the light. He looks half asleep, if he hasn't dozed off for real. Jiyong notices a second newly opened bottle of wine beside the bottle from earlier, now empty.  
  
'You have a picture of me,' he says.

Seunghyun's head lifts quietly from his palm, his eyes half closed, gaze somewhere on the floor.

'Do I?'  
  
Jiyong steps forward, sliding the photo across the counter until it's below Seunghyun's nose. He taps on their smiling faces. There's a brief flash of emotion on Seunghyun's face but only a flash. He takes the photo and slides it into his back pocket in one fluid motion. More graceful than any ordinary human being after drinking a bottle of wine.

'It's old,' Seunghyun says, eyes on the granite counter.

He sounds weary and old, somehow aged in the time Jiyong has been in the bedroom. His head droops and his eyes close for periods too long. Jiyong gets the feeling he isn't drunk, despite his appearance, not really. He's just tired. Worn out.

'What does that mean?' Jiyong asks. 'What do you mean it's _old?'_

Seunghyun raises his head slowly and looks at Jiyong with a face entirely void of emotion.  
  
'It's left over from before I went away. It's _old,'_ he says with childish intonation. He spells out the word for emphasis and says it again for clarity. 'It's old'.  
  
Jiyong feels a flash of frustration and lashes out, shoving Seunghyun so hard, he reels back and trips off the stool, only saving himself at the last second by accident. He stumbles into an upright position. Seunghyun looks shocked momentarily and Jiyong shoves him again, harder. Seunghyun stumbles back again, raising his arms to defend himself, seconds too late.  
  
'It's not _left over_ ,' Jiyong says in the same childish way Seunghyun spoke to him first. 'I searched every drawer in this house when you were gone. That photo,' he says, pointing to Seunghyun's ass pocket, 'wasn't here. You took it with you and you brought it back. It's been folded up and it's worn. You held onto it!'

Seunghyun pulls a frustrated face as if it to say, _'So what? Who cares? It doesn't matter'._

_But it does._  
  
Jiyong moves to shove him again but Seunghyun's arms go up in time and he deflects his advance. He latches onto Jiyong's arms but they're knocked aside and Jiyong shoves him again. Seunghyun's back hits the wall.

_'Stop it'._  
  
His sober voice of remonstrance is enough for Jiyong to stop but only for a moment.

Seunghyun kept that picture, he took it with him, he folded it up and opened it. He looked at it, not once or twice but hundreds of times. Back in Seoul, home sweet home, he treated him like he was nothing, like he was beneath him, like he was insignificant and then came home each night to this apartment, where he slept in that king-sized bed beside a picture he kept of them _together_.

That _does_ matter.

Jiyong moves to hit him again but Seunghyun grabs his wrist and gently pushes him away, keeping him at bay with an outstretched hand.  
  
Standing there, being held at arms-length, Jiyong wants to laugh. Hours earlier, the vomiting and the nausea and the problems at home and the falling asleep while driving? Compared to this? That was simple and easy. The world was a more reliable place when the worst thing he had to worry about was burning to death every time he picked up a cigarette while tired.

This? This is too much. He wants to go back to the nausea and the misery and the self-doubt because the alternative is too much. Jiyong felt this whole thing with Seunghyun was an inevitability. People left him, that's just what they did. Seunghyun left him because he tired of him and he cared so little about him that he forgot to say goodbye. It was simple in a way. Tidy. It was hard to swallow but it was manageable.

The thought of Seunghyun sleeping beside a worn photograph of happier times, of his own love-filled eyes? It makes him ill. It opens doors Jiyong doesn't want opened. Doors he spent months trying to close. It's messy and it hurts.  
  
Thunder rumbles close by, violent and loud. Jiyong feels it in his bones. A crack of lightning follows and his eyes are drawn down to Seonggye, shivering at Seunghyun's feet like a rattling skeleton. He's scared of the storm. Jiyong shoves Seunghyun's hand away from him and sinks to the floor. He reaches for the dog and pulls him into his lap. He sits cross legged, cooing softly by its small black ears. Seunghyun stays where he is, pressed up against the wall looking suddenly sober, like a caged animal.

'You didn't leave because of me, did you?' Jiyong asks, smoothing circles below Seonggye's ears.

'No'.

Jiyong's hands on Seonggye still. Seunghyun's answer is all he's wanted for months and months and it hurts him. It settles in his heart and weighs him down, pulling at him from all sides.

'And you weren't ever going to tell me'.

'You never asked,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'I didn't realise I had to'.

Seonggye climbs out of Jiyong's lap and closes the distance between he and Seunghyun, pawing at his ankles. It's another small betrayal and Jiyong looks at the floor below him.

His head aches.

He pulls his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one, making sure to look Seunghyun in the eyes as he does it.

'Does it bother you, that I'm smoking _inside?'_  
  
Seunghyun looks miffed but doesn't answer and Jiyong laughs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. The joke of this whole situation takes him over. He takes a long drag and blows smoke in Seunghyun's direction before waving the cigarette around himself, fanning smoke in all directions.  
  
Seunghyun looks irritated and Jiyong smiles, determined to sit here on Seunghyun's floor and smoke every last one of his cigarettes. He wants Seunghyun's sister to smell each one and know how useless and unreliable Seunghyun really is.

'Do you think your sister will be disappointed that you've started smoking again?' Jiyong asks, blowing smoke into the air above him. 'Was she proud of you when you told her you quit? I bet she was'.  
  
'Yeah,' Seunghyun answers drily. 'She was. She told my mother. The whole family was _very proud_ '.  
  
Jiyong laughs and drags himself to the coffee table, pulling a magazine to the floor to use as an ashtray.  
  
'What a disappointment you turned out to be'.

Seunghyun sighs and sits down where he is, back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. Seonggye climbs in his lap immediately, paws digging into Seunghyun's balls, the way he winces and pushes him lower down.  
  
'Do you want a cigarette?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Jiyong flicks ash onto the magazine below him and leans forward to ease the growing ache in his back. Seunghyun is staring at his toes, his face a blank slate. Completely void of emotion, the way Jiyong feels.

'Fifteen years,' Jiyong says.  
  
'Hm?'  
  
'I've known you for fifteen years,' he says. 'That's more than half my life’.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer.  
  
'We were together for years. I don't remember how long exactly'.

'Five,' Seunghyun says, eyes on his toes.  
  
'Five? Oh. See, you remember that because you loved me. I thought you didn't, obviously, when you walked out the door on my birthday and said, ' _see you tomorrow_ ' and never came back,’ Jiyong says bitterly. ‘Well actually, that's not true. It took me a while before I thought you must never have loved me. For a while I thought there must have been a good reason for you doing that to me. You must have been going through something. You must have been in trouble and thought _it will be so much easier to run away'._  
  
Seunghyun stays silent.

'After a while, I stopped thinking about that. It seemed too ridiculous to think after _five years_ of you and I being an item, you could walk out that door and never speak to me again. There was no excuse good enough to justify what you did. So, I just thought our whole life together was a lie. It made more sense to me, that you didn't care'.  
  
Jiyong takes the final drag of his cigarette and stubs it out on the magazine below him.  
  
'But here you are, with a picture of us in your bedside table'.  
  
Seunghyun looks across at him for the briefest moment but only that.

'So what is it?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'What?'  
  
'The excuse? That photo of us is important to you. You care about me. I don't know if you still love me or if you just like the memories, but you care, obviously. When you walked out on me, on my _birthday_ , you said you loved me and I believed you at the time so what makes a grown man walk out on someone they love, without a care or a thought for how they're going to survive? What was it?'

Seunghyun's answer comes slowly, his voice a new shade of self-pity.

'I thought you would be okay'.  
  
Jiyong laughs sharply. He stands up so abruptly, he kicks the magazine out from underneath him. Cigarette ash scatters across the floor and Jiyong looks at it helplessly. His mind suddenly draws blank. All he can think about is the ash on the floor.

_I thought you would be okay._  
  
Seunghyun's hands close around his elbow and Jiyong shoves him away, the heel of his palms smacking hard into Seunghyun's chest. With Seunghyun's touch, it all comes back.  
  
Every sleepless night, every moment of worry, of nausea, of self-doubt, of hatred and rage and sheer agony, every drink, every restless cigarette at 4am, every moment of turning to someone who wasn't there, every god damn second of missing him and loving him and worrying about him and whether or not he was okay. Every moment Jiyong needed help and had nobody, every moment he needed Seunghyun and reached out for a helping hand that _wasn't there_.

He breaks.

The shock of the photograph and what it means lifts. The calm dissolves and it doesn't _matter_ if Seunghyun hates him or not, if he loves him or likes him or if he finds the memories that little photo brings back help him get to sleep at night. It doesn't matter that Seunghyun remembers noughts and crosses and games of hangman late at night, that he remembers uttering the words _'it's not nothing',_ once upon a time in a friend’s bathroom. It doesn't matter that he knows it's been _five_ years since they first got together.

It doesn't fucking matter because he's standing here now, stupid and selfish and oblivious and those fifteen years of knowing each other, those five years of _really knowing each other_ amount to nothing more than _'I thought you would be okay'._

Jiyong _breaks._  
  
'You thought I would be _okay?_ Is that what you just said to me?'

Jiyong means to speak plainly, to control himself but his words come out desperate and broken and he's shouting at the top of his lungs, like it's the only way to get through to him. The only way Seunghyun can possibly understand, can possibly _hear him_.

'I wasn't okay! You have no idea what it was like when you left, you _asshole_. You have no idea what happened to me, no idea what I went through'.  
  
He's hardly even begun when Seunghyun says the most agonising thing he could possibly say, the one thing worse than all the others.

'I'm _sorry'._

'No, you're not,' Jiyong cracks. 'If you were sorry you would tell me _everything_. From the very beginning you would explain yourself, you would put me out of my god damn misery and tell me what happened. You would explain why you took a year of my life from me. Why you destroyed my self-esteem and made me feel worthless and pathetic and small. I deserve better than someone I loved treating me like shit, abandoning me, ignoring me. I deserve better than _all_ of this. We had a whole fucking life together, Seunghyun. Didn't that mean anything to you? I fucking _loved_ you and you fucking said, _'see you tomorrow_ ' and walked out that door and the next thing I know you're in Japan and I'm smashing my fucking apartment to bits and living with my parents again because I was so fucking heartbroken I needed my fucking mommy and daddy to tuck me in at night so I could fucking survive it all! And I pined after you, Jesus Christ, I thought about you every god damn day, 100 times a day until I was fucking empty, until I had cried every last fucking tear I could cry for you'.  
  
The look on Seunghyun's face makes Jiyong feel vindicated, it erases the humiliation of his own tears, streaming down his face. If Seunghyun's capable of being hurt, Jiyong wants to hurt him. He wants him to feel a fraction of what he made him feel. He wants him to _hurt._  
  
'Oh, and I _drank_ ,' Jiyong continues, his hands shaking. 'And I drank and I drank and my whole _life_ became getting drunk to forget you and to forget all the mistakes I had made because you leaving became all about me. When you first left I thought something must have happened to you but then--- it was me. It was something about me that made you leave the way everyone leaves me in the end and I drank until it all went away'.  
  
He gestures vaguely with his hand.  
  
'And you know what happened?' Jiyong asks bitterly.  
  
Lightning cracks outside and the sound is so sharp and piercing, Jiyong jumps and the dog barks.

He comes to his senses. What would talking about _that_ accomplish? It wasn't Seunghyun's fault anyway. He made his own choices. He laughs quietly and clears his throat.  
  
'No. I think I've let you humiliate me enough for one lifetime. I don't know what I'm even doing here'.

He brushes past Seunghyun and moves towards his bags but Seunghyun's voice stops him and turns him around.  
  
'I didn't mean for your birthday to happen that way. I didn't know I was going until I was doing it'.

He sounds so weak and apologetic and feeble and it's almost a joke, how insignificant and worthless this apology is. Of all the things he has to be sorry for, this is the last thing deserving of explanation. The last thing meriting attention after everything Jiyong has just screamed in his face.

Jiyong smiles sadly at him and shrugs.  
  
'You planned to go? You made arrangements a week in advance. Don't tell me you didn't know'.

'I meant to wait until after your birthday. I was going to try and explain before I went'.

'But you changed your mind. You thought you'd just disappear in the night and never speak to me again?'  
  
'I made a choice,' Seunghyun says quietly.  
  
'You made the _wrong_ choice'.

Seunghyun stares into his eyes and Jiyong for some reason says something awful to him.  
  
'I'm seeing somebody'.

There's a brief flash of pain on Seunghyun's face but he doesn't move, doesn't show any other signs of feeling either way.

'Is it serious?'

Jiyong smiles. He thinks of westerns and hiking and shared showers. He thinks of Hyeong-bae's smile and the lines of his forehead when he's grumpy, his open face when he's sleeping. He thinks of his tired eyes and five o'clock shadow and Gaho tormenting him from morning till night. He thinks of held hands and quiet encouragements and trust.

'Yeah,' Jiyong says. 'It is'.  
  
'Who is she?'  
  
'She,' Jiyong says carefully, avoiding the truth, 'Is nobody you know'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles back at him and Jiyong can see the pain he wanted to inflict has found its mark. It doesn't make him happy like he thought it would. It makes him feel a little empty, like neither of them won the fight. Hurting Seunghyun doesn’t make him feel better.  
  
'What's she like?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'Like you in a lot of ways. Less sensitive maybe. More honest. I don't think she'll leave me without saying anything first, so that's good'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and looks at the floor.  
  
'Cross fingers,' he says.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Jiyong crosses the space between them so they're only a foot apart. He doesn't know why, he almost wants to _hug_ Seunghyun. He wants him to feel better. He suddenly gets the feeling that Seunghyun regrets what he's done and the choices he's made. Maybe Seunghyun's refusal to acknowledge him at work isn't about him at all. Maybe it's hard for him to see his face. Maybe it's easier for him this way.  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Either way, the feeling is there and the _sympathy_ and Jiyong's almost sorry for hurting him and that's the least funny joke of all. He still gives a shit. He wants Seunghyun to be okay.

'How long have you been seeing her?'  
  
'Long enough,' Jiyong says. 'A few months'.

This time, Jiyong sees it, unmistakably, the flash of hurt and regret on Seunghyun's face. As though some part of him had expected something else. For Jiyong to sit idly by and wait for him, to pine after him for the rest of his life, burying the hurt because love conquers all.

'I'm not saying that to hurt you,' Jiyong whispers. 'I'm not sure it even does hurt you. I'm just telling you because this picture?'  
  
He slides his hand around Seunghyun's waist and pats his back pocket where a happier time had been captured on film and remembered and looked over while they spent a year apart.  
  
'Well, maybe you should let it go'.  
  
Seunghyun's hand falls over Jiyong's, warm and slender but strong. Their fingers intertwine by instinct and Jiyong lets them. It's unfair how right it feels to hold Seunghyun's hand. Jiyong feels a pang of hurt he doesn't want at the thought of letting go for the last time.

Seunghyun leans down so their foreheads are pressed together with their hands held between them. Jiyong says the only thing he can, the only way he can reconcile his feelings with what's happening and what _has_ happened.  
  
'This is your last chance to tell me everything,' he says quietly, staring at their interwoven hands. 'Whatever happened, I'll forgive you. I've known you for half my life, there is nothing you can't tell me. Even now, after everything. If you need help, I am standing here and I will help you. Just talk to me. This is your _only_ chance. If you don't tell me now, that's it. I'll never ask you again. We'll be done, forever. _Please_ tell me. After everything, just _tell me_ '.  
  
'I can't'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't feel the ache he expects at Seunghyun's solemn words because deep down there was never another way this was going to go. His silence has lasted too long to be broken here, with a simple held hand and a quiet _please._  
  
_'Okay'._  
  
'I really am sorry,' Seunghyun whispers. 'For everything'.  
  
He shakes free of Jiyong's hands and cups his cheeks and Jiyong's face contorts because it's so familiar, even now after all these years and he knows, despite it all, Seunghyun cares about him. Everything that happened might have turned out differently had one circumstance Jiyong isn't privy to turned out differently.  
  
If Seunghyun had just made different choices. But if he had, Jiyong wouldn't have met Hyeong-bae again. Would his life have been better or worse had things worked out differently? He shouldn't think about that, but he does.  
  
'I believe you,' Jiyong says.  
  
And he does. Seunghyun _is_ sorry and it doesn't change anything and maybe that's what he's most sorry about. That standing here with his hands on Jiyong's face, saying _'I'm sorry'_ doesn't bring him back or change the past or right the wrongs. They're just words.  
  
Seunghyun leans down a little further and Jiyong lets him, meeting him in the middle. Their lips press gently together and a lifetime of shared kisses flash through Jiyong's mind. A lifetime of hushed whispers and heartfelt confessions. A thousand kisses, each different, each special and _remembered._  
  
'I missed you,' Jiyong breathes, fingers gripping the back of Seunghyun's head, dragging over short bristling hair. _'I'm going to miss you_ '.  
  
Seunghyun kisses him with remembered affection, warm lips, soft and gentle and lasting. When they finally break apart, his thumb smooths over Jiyong's cheek and he says in the same tone Jiyong did, with the same honesty, 'Me too'.

 

 

* * *

 

With his bags on the landing outside and one last kiss on Seonggye's head delivered, Jiyong stands on the darkened landing, looking at Seunghyun standing motionless in the doorway and he says something there in the dark and the quiet of the night. Something he means, honestly, in the pit of his soul.

'I need you to stay away from me'.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

Hyeong-bae has a nose like a bloodhound, sniffing out nearby food in his sleep. His body rolls heavily to the side, face moving up the pillow, nose inclined towards the smell. His five o'clock shadow makes him look older than he is, more tired, softer. There are bags beneath his eyes from late nights and long days, one after the other.

He makes a quiet sound in his sleep and the blankets move at the bottom of the bed. A lump grows and moves west until Gaho's head pops out from the side, blankets falling to the wayside. A slow shake of his heavy body and he's on the floor and out the door, snuffling sounds growing quieter until there's silence again except for Hyeong-bae's quiet snoring.

Jiyong makes a space on the bedside table and puts the plate down quietly, the result of 45 minutes of kitchen fuck-ups looking a little worse for wear. Trying not to burn the place to the ground or turn the food into ash, it took 30 minutes too long to make Hyeong-bae's 'breakfast'. Jiyong tried making one of a dozen favourites but gave up after three failed attempts and settled on something a little easier. Something dull. Toast. Eggs. _It's the thought that counts._

He crawls over Hyeong-bae's sleeping body and flops down on his own side of the bed, eyes tired and legs heavy. He hasn't been sleeping well.

It's been two weeks since he left Seunghyun's apartment and while the nausea and the unremitting stress has mostly left him alone, a headache has followed him, day and night. It comes and goes but the ratio of feeling alright to feeling the pain has broadened. The headache is there more than it isn't. Jiyong feels it in his sleep.

_'You're coming down with something,'_ Hyeong-bae said, dragging a blanket over Jiyong's curled up body. _'The flu or something'._  
  
_'I'm fine,'_ he'd answered, ' _Just a headache'._  
  
That was days ago and there is no flu, only a persistent dull ache in the side of his head. Hyeong-bae has played the dutiful spouse, left painkillers around the house and comforting post-its, that while in pain, seem more annoying than thoughtful, and through it all, Jiyong has been glad of him.

In his well moments he has managed to go to work _and_ play victim to Hyeong-bae's sudden need to spend every second of the day with him. Whether it's the headaches or something else, Hyeong-bae is suddenly there every time Jiyong opens his eyes, like a lost puppy or a reunited lover trying to make up for lost time.

Jiyong hasn't given it much thought, glad of the distraction. Even with a pounding headache, there is always room for those gestures. Hyeong-bae gave him a massage one night, face down in the carpet that left his stomach chafed and bruises up and down his back, but which left him entirely pain free the next day, to their joint surprise.

_'Magic fingers,'_ Hyeong-bae reasoned.

The pain came back but Jiyong's appreciation remained and headaches aside, he was happy. Hyeong-bae was great and when they were alone, Jiyong thought of no-one else. For the first time in weeks there were no ghosts in the room. Thoughts of Seunghyun didn't follow him around-- in fact-- when he _wasn't_ around, Jiyong forgot him altogether. The good times and the bad, the beginning and the end. And Seunghyun _wasn't_ around.

Jiyong's parting words, _'stay away from me,'_ found their mark. However many hours spent at work since, Seunghyun hadn't show his face or left a trace anywhere Jiyong went. He simply disappeared. From seeing him around the office on a near daily basis, he just disappeared.

With Seunghyun went the tension and the stress and the falling asleep at all hours, the throwing up and the inability to eat. Like recovering from a long illness, Seunghyun's withdrawal did Jiyong a world of good. Hyeong-bae noticed almost immediately and the tension between them dissipated. Life was easy again but for a constant ache in the side of his head.

 

  
  
*

 

 

 

The sound of traffic filters through an open window in the next room and Jiyong rubs his tired eyes, wishing he could sleep the way Hyeong-bae sleeps. He throws an arm out and draws pictures on Hyeong-bae's bare back with a feather light touch. He draws faces and writes his name and lyrics to songs he remembers from a decade ago until Hyeong-bae reluctantly wakes.

Half dead like a hibernating bear forced out of its slumber weeks too early, Hyeong-bae goes through the motions of waking up; The groaning and the yawning and the stretching and the quiet pleas for _a few more hours_. His head lifts off the pillow and his sleep-laden voice comes through sounding younger, like it only ever does in the mornings.   
  
_'_ Is that _food?'_

Jiyong reaches out again with light fingers, walking them across Hyeong-bae's back. He jumps at the touch and rolls over clumsily, the sheets falling to the wayside.

'Why is there food?'  
  
'I made you breakfast'.

There's a pause while the cogs of Hyeong-bae's tired mind start to turn.  
  
'Oh'.

Hyeong-bae drags a hand over his bristling chin. He props himself up on his elbows and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palms. He looks down at Jiyong with a half-asleep smile.   
  
'Breakfast in bed. Is it Mothers day?'  
  
Jiyong smiles and yawns, propping himself up to lean against the headboard.

Truth be told, he's woken more than once to breakfast in bed, Hyeong-bae working smarter-not-harder, _buying_ Jiyong breakfast and bringing it home. Thinking each time he should return the favour, this is the first time he's managed it. Hyeong-bae's been a saint with his headaches and putting up with what came before them. He wants to say _thank-you._

Looking at the sorry looking eggs and rapidly cooling toast, Hyeong-bae quirks an eyebrow in his direction. 'Did you make that? _Make_ make?'

Jiyong follows his gaze to the mess on the side-table and frowns half-heartedly. 'Can't you tell?'

Hyeong-bae grins and gives a sympathetic laugh, pulling on Jiyong's arm until he falls into his side. He kisses his forehead and talks the way a mother does a child.  
  
'That's great, _thank-you_ '. In a more playful tone he asks, 'What have I done to deserve this?'

Jiyong kisses the side of his jaw and wraps an arm around his stomach. 'You've been really patient with me this week. I wanted to do something nice for you. Although ----', he gestures at the food in question, 'It might _literally_ poison you'.

Hyeong-bae's chest moves in a silent snicker and he leans over, stabbing at the plate with the fork provided. A moment later he's got a mouthful of cold breakfast, making orgasmic sounds with brief interjections of, _'Amazing,'_ and _'You could be a chef'._  
  
Jiyong shoves him half-heartedly at the blatant jests and tries to tell him off, _It's the thought that counts,_ but Hyeong-bae's got his hands around him before he knows it, their faces close together. Hyeong-bae's eyes are dark, his chin bristling with the makings of a beard and all Jiyong wants to do is kiss him, smooth his hair from his face and erase the lines from the corners of his eyes. He wants to make him happy and the force of that feeling surprises him.

Their lips meet and Jiyong returns the kiss but shoves Hyeong-bae away a moment later.

_'Gross,_ I can taste your breakfast'.  
  
'You don't like it?'  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him again, while smiling and Jiyong shoves him away, the smile spreading to his own lips.  
  
'It's so gross,' he laughs. 'I can't believe you ate that. I'm _so sorry_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him again, despite Jiyong's protestations.  
  
'I'm going to eat _every last bite_ '.  
  
'Please don't. It's disgusting'.

‘Don’t say that,' Hyeong-bae stirs. 'My boyfriend _made_ that for me'.  
  
Jiyong lets Hyeong-bae give him another peck on the lips, his words worming their way inside of him, putting a flush in his cheeks.  
  
'Your boyfriend can't cook for shit,' he whispers into Hyeong-bae's jaw.  
  
'He has other qualities'.  
  
‘Like what?'  
  
'He's funny (unintentionally), smart (sometimes), nice (when he remembers), talented (sort of) ---'  
  
Jiyong lays his palm flat on Hyeong-bae's cheek and shoves him away.  
  
'Keep it up and you won't have a _boyfriend'._  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs and tightens his grip around Jiyong's waist.  
  
'--- I almost forgot … he makes this little noise when I do this ---'  
  
A brief moment of Hyeong-bae's fingers in the right place, doing the right forbidden _things_ and the noise in question comes despite Jiyong's protestations.

After a moment of weakness and submission and one or two unwilling, unrestrained noises, Jiyong regains his sanity and shoves Hyeong-bae away, a little breathless and flushed and sorry for being so weak-willed. He swings his legs over Hyeong-bae's and leans back on his elbows, resolute, his headache mercifully absent for once.  
  
'Go on, _boyfriend_ , eat the breakfast I made for you, _every last bite_ you said'.  
  
Hyeong-bae grimaces at the challenge and puts on a brave face, jabbing his fork decidedly into a pile of egg. Jiyong raises his brow, daring him to eat it and to his credit, he does. He chews it up and swallows it and has enough acting prowess to pretend, mostly, that it isn't completely disgusting.  
  
For all the things Jiyong's mother taught him, how to cook beyond boiling noodles wasn't one of them. She tried, but it wouldn't stick. The kitchen drawer of takeaway menus and the occasional hand over of his mothers home-made cooking could be credited for his continued survival.

When Hyeong-bae moves to take another bite, Jiyong stops him, grabbing his free hand.  
  
'Stop! You've proven your undying affection for me, you don't have to eat that'.

Hyeong-bae exhales loudly and wipes his face with both hands, the picture of relief.  
  
'Thank God'.

He sinks down to Jiyong's level, rolling flat onto his stomach sideways across the bed so they're side by side. 'Don't ever make breakfast for me again'.  
  
Jiyong goes to admonish him but lips find his own and disgusting breakfast aside, Hyeong-bae's lips are warm and soft, his hands heavy and comforting. Jiyong can feel the warmth from Hyeong-bae's body pressed against his own.

It's been three weeks since they were close and Jiyong's missed it. Too tired, too busy, too distracted by the throbbing ache in his skull, whenever the time was right, they passed by each other, unable to make it work, but now---  
  
Jiyong's tiredness has dissipated and in its place are a dozen reasons to stay awake. Hyeong-bae's knee nestles between his legs and against his hip Jiyong can _feel_ him, hard and warm and willing.

Hyeong-bae kisses him, a peck on the lips travelling down to his chin, up the line of his jaw and below his ear. His kisses are slow, weighted down by tiredness, but they're soft and gentle in a way they only ever really are in the mornings. At night, things move faster, rougher, harder and Jiyong likes that but every now and then, the mornings are what he needs.

He slides his fingers beneath the waistband of Hyeong-bae's briefs and smiles into his bristling jaw at the sound he makes, like he's waited a thousand years for this touch.

'It's been a while,' Jiyong whispers, smiling, gripping Hyeong-bae’s cock tightly, _a little too tight_. Hyeong-bae inhales sharply and his body tenses, but he likes it. Jiyong knows.

Hyeong-bae takes his lips again, teeth dragging on his lower lip before deepening the kiss, his fingers in Jiyong's hair, palms heavy and hot against his face. The weight of him is almost stifling but Jiyong likes it. He likes the heat and the _feel_ of him pressing in from all sides. It makes him feel wanted and safe and in a darker part of him, it turns him on to feel small.

Jiyong jerks him off slow, fingers tight around Hyeong-bae's cock, his movements hampered by the briefs but not by much. Hyeong-bae makes a low noise with each touch of Jiyong's fingernails against heated flesh, biting him in return, nipping lips and neck and collarbone.

Jiyong’s skin warms and aches from each brush of stubble, marking him with each kiss and nip and bite.

Hyeong-bae moves a hand down between them, mirroring Jiyong's actions, their arms connecting. He palms Jiyong's cock through his pants and Jiyong squirms at the unexpected touch. Hyeong-bae kisses him again and Jiyong smiles when they part.  
  
'You need to shave'.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses the redness of Jiyong's face, his chin, beside his mouth.

'I like seeing where I've been,' he answers.

Jiyong laughs quietly and pulls his hand from Hyeong-bae's cock, pulling at the waistband of his briefs.  
  
_'Take them off'._

Hyeong-bae pulls back enough to do it but grabs the tail end of Jiyong's t-shirt first, pulling up the ends until Jiyong raises his arms. His shirt disappears over the side of the bed.

Briefs still on, Hyeong-bae sinks back down, mouth meeting Jiyong's chest, teeth focussed on one nipple, his free hand digging into Jiyong's thigh.

'You're a tease,' Jiyong laments, hands over his face.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses his chest and smiles.  
  
'I thought you liked foreplay? We can skip it if you want'.  
  
Hyeong-bae sits up, fingers beneath the waistband of Jiyong's pants, and pulls them down in seconds, throwing them in the direction of his lost shirt.

Jiyong smiles, stark naked, and pushes a foot into Hyeong-bae's chest when he tries to move over him.

'I said _take em off,'_ he gestures towards Hyeong-bae's briefs.

A moment later the briefs are gone at last, joining the pile of Jiyong's own clothes and Hyeong-bae's got him by the ankle, pulling his leg around him as he moves down over him, their cocks meeting in the middle --- Hyeong-bae's warm heavy body pressed down against him.  
  
Jiyong pulls him down by the neck to kiss him, his hands in his short hair, fingers ghosting over heated skin.   
  
'Maybe we can skip the foreplay just this once’.  
  
Hyeong-bae wordlessly agrees, pulling Jiyong down by his waist so he's closer to the centre of the bed. A flush rises in Jiyong's cheeks and his cock responds to the rough touch, enjoying the strength of him. He spreads his legs a little and props himself up on his elbows, watching Hyeong-bae rifle through the bedside drawer for what they need.  
  
_'Second_ drawer'.  
  
Hyeong-bae bashfully closes the first and opens the second, searching intently for the last of two items.

Jiyong's phone rings from his bedside table.  
  
Hyeong-bae pauses and laughs, looking back at him.  
  
'Maybe it's your mother. Want to answer?'  
  
Jiyong kicks his thigh.  
  
'No. Ignore it. _Hurry up_ \---'  
  
Hyeong-bae finds what he's looking for as Jiyong's phone rings out, the room in silence again but for their own heavy breathing. Hyeong-bae throws them both, the bottle landing on Jiyong's stomach, the condom somewhere near his knee.  
  
He moves to the bedroom door and shuts it, throwing a knowing glance Jiyong's way that says, ' _Not after last time'._  
  
Gaho had a tendency to try and get between them whenever they sat too close, or hugged or showed any kind of affection not involving him. The last time the bedroom door wasn't closed he found he didn't like them fucking either. Gaho jumped on the bed mid-way and really spoiled the whole thing.

Jiyong smirks and throws the bottle at Hyeong-bae as he gets back on the bed.  
  
His phone rings again.

_'This is not a great time for an emergency_ ,' Hyeong-bae grimaces, gesturing towards his own naked body and his cock, begging for attention.

'Let me see who it is,' Jiyong sighs.  
  
He crawls to the bedside table and picks his phone up. Caller ID says Seungri, so it's hardly an _emergency_. Nothing that can't wait twenty minutes in any case.  
  
'It can wait,' Jiyong says, hitting the ignore button.  
  
No sooner than he's back on the bed, the phone rings again and Hyeong-bae groans, 'Why is this happening to me?’

Jiyong laughs but groans himself, his own cock aching from inattention.

'I'll be quick'.  
  
He rolls onto his stomach and pulls the phone down, answering it as evenly as he can manage.  
  
'Hello?'  
  
Seungri's voice comes through a little frantic and _relieved._  
  
'What took you so long?'  
  
'I was about to get some. You're lucky I answered at all'.  
  
'Bullshit. I need you to come to Seokparang and pay for my lunch'.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'I lost my wallet, okay? I'm here with a few people, I told them I was paying for lunch and when I went to the bathroom five minutes ago I couldn't find my wallet'.  
  
'So, tell them. Ask them to shout you? Why do I have to come and bail you out?'  
  
'It's kind of a business thing, okay? It'll look bad. Will you just come? I can't keep them here forever. Lunch has to end some time'.  
  
Jiyong groans into the mattress and pulls the phone away from him, both hands around it, he strangles it, imagining the crisp darkening screen is Seungri's neck.  
  
'Can't anybody else do it?'

'You're the closest!'  
  
'No, I'm not. Seunghyun-hyung lives _five_ minutes from there. It will take me forever to get there!'  
  
'He can't do it. Can you just come? _Please?'_

Jiyong groans again into the mattress, as loud as possible so Seungri knows the magnitude of what he's asking and how great the reward needs to be for him doing this.  
  
'It will take me almost _thirty_ minutes, you know that? I'll come, but you have to keep this lunch going for at least that long. I'll txt you when I get there'.  
  
‘Twenty minutes _. Thank_ _-_ you. You're a life saver'.  
  
_'Thirty_. And you owe me _._ _You_ _have no idea_ _'._  
  
Hyeong-bae's unhappy groan mirrors Jiyong's own as the phone lands back on the bedside table with a mocking thud.

_'Are you kidding me?'_  
  
Jiyong rolls over and grimaces in response.  
  
'I'm _really_ sorry'.

Hyeong-bae looks down at his own cock and says, 'not as sorry as I am'.

Jiyong laughs, running a hand through his hair. He plants a foot on Hyeong-bae's thigh.  
  
'How fast do you think ---'  
  
Hyeong-bae cuts him off before he can even get his sentence out.  
  
'Two minutes,' he says. To Jiyong's raised brow he answers _, '_ _It's been a while'_ _._

With a quick glance at the time, Jiyong gives him, _'Five minutes. That's it. If you're not done in five minutes, too bad'._  
  
With that, he lets Hyeong-bae roll him onto his stomach, condom going on in record time --- and sure enough, three minutes later, Hyeong-bae's grunting behind him, pulling out just in time to cum anywhere that's not inside him.

Jiyong gives him a minute to recover and then he's off the bed and picking clothes up off the floor.  
  
'What about you?' Hyeong-bae asks, breath ragged.  
  
Jiyong spares a quick minute to kiss him on the forehead and says, _'I'll deal with it in the shower, I don't have time ---'_  


 

 

* * *  
(fourty minutes, one shower and twenty-five scowls later)

 

 

 

Jiyong waits for Seungri in the bathroom he had stealthily to sneak into. Foreign Jazz music filters through the wood-panelled doors and Jiyong takes his scarf off long enough to splash cold water on his face. The low-hanging lights make his eyes look sunken and his cheeks sallow. It's definitely the face of someone who _didn't_ get off.  
  
When he jumped in the shower, his headache returned in what felt like seconds, as though all it needed was a drop of water to re-energise and grow kicking at the sides of his skull like a baby in the womb. His erection disappeared faster than if his family had walked in on him with a cock in his hand.

He wraps the scarf around his mouth again, his chin faintly pink from Hyeong-bae's stubble scratching up against him. He leans against the wall and waits for Seungri to crawl in, _grovelling_ on hand and knee, kissing the ring on his finger before skipping off with his cash.

When Seungri does walk in minutes later, he looks suitably apologetic and says _thank-you_ at least five times which goes a ways to placating Jiyong's pent up anger about his morning not going to plan. Jiyong hands over the cash and promises to 'hang back' for five minutes so they can get a drink afterwards and 'catch up'.  
  
_'It's been a whole week!'_  
  
'God forbid I don't see you for a week'.

When Seungri sidles out of the bar ten minutes later and jumps in the passenger seat of his car, Jiyong holds out his hand for the change, eyes closed, sunglasses on. Seungri hands him a few bills and thanks him again.  
  
'What's with the sunglasses? It's gloomy out. It's going to rain'.  
  
'Got a headache,' Jiyong answers morosely, managing despite that to quirk a smile in his direction, saying, _'I wonder why'_.

'Sorry _again_. I don't know where I lost it, unless I left it at home but I don't see how'.  
  
'Where's the last place you _saw_ your wallet?' Jiyong asks, mirroring every mother since the dawn of time.  
  
'If I knew that, I wouldn't have lost it'.

Jiyong flicks down the visor and leans against the car door, arms folded, wanting to crawl up inside himself where the headache can't find him. The top of the seatbelt digs into his neck but he ignores it.

'What were you doing when I called?' Seungri asks.  
  
'I told you, I was about to get laid which incidentally, didn't happen after you called'.  
  
'Bullshit'.  
  
Jiyong lowers his sunglasses and sets a stare on him which says it all. Seungri's eyebrows rise.  
  
'Seriously?'  
  
He laughs but seeing Jiyong's withering glare, adds in a more sombre tone, 'You're a true friend'.  
  
'Don't forget it. You owe me that money, _plus_ interest'.  
  
'Of course'.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes and imagines his life had he _not_ answered the phone. It's been roughly fifty minutes since pants were flung off so the fun would be over by now. He might be in bed still, goose-down pillows nursing his pounding head. He might even have wrangled a massage out of Hyeong-bae's suspected ' _magic fingers'_. At the very least he would have taken pain killers and closed the blinds and succumbed to another half-wasted day in the dark and quiet of his bedroom.

'Do you have any painkillers in that purse?' Jiyong asks, gesturing towards Seungri's bag.

'No,' he answers. 'Sorry. And it's not a _purse_. It's Bottega Veneta'.  
  
Jiyong smiles, pressing down on the bridge of his nose. He wants to go home. He wants water and a warm bath and gentle fingers trying to coax out the pain. He wants these headaches to leave him be.

'I don't think I can stay for a drink,' Jiyong says tiredly. 'This headache is killing me'.  
  
Seungri shrugs sympathetically. 'Rain-check then. You should go home, you don't look great'.  
  
Jiyong answers with a quiet exhale, short of anything else to say. A drop of rain hits the window and then another, a light spattering of rain. The calm before the storm. Seungri looks at him as if to say, _'I told you so'._ Like he's developed a psychic gift that should be recognised.

'Why couldn't _Seunghyun-hyung_ come and rescue you?' Jiyong asks tiredly.  
  
He's not sure why he does, it isn't planned or mulled over, it's just there between them. Jiyong hears it come out of him like from a third party.

'It's not a great time to be asking him for favours, is it. Besides, even on his best day, he probably wouldn't do it'.  
  
Jiyong almost laughs at Seungri's withering stare focussed on the dashboard. No, on a good day, Seunghyun _wouldn't_ help. He'd laugh and leave you to save yourself. Tough love and a touch of laziness. On his best day though --- implies an opposite.

'What do you mean, ' _it's not a great time?'_

Seungri shrugs.  
  
'The whole grandmother thing'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his sunglasses off and sits them on the dash, running a hand through his fringe and loosening his scarf. It's almost hard to breathe in this car. Each throb in his head and his whole body jars up – every part of him stopped to make room for the _thud, thud, thud._

'What _grandmother_ thing?'

Seungri turns to him, eyebrows raised. 'You haven't talked to him?'  
  
Jiyong returns his expression.  
  
'You know we're not really talking. I haven't seen him for two weeks. What are you talking about?'

Then Seungri relays the whole sorry story from a week earlier which could go a ways to explaining Seunghyun's absence at the office; make it something more likely than he'd simply disappeared for Jiyong's benefit.

He almost feels embarrassed for believing that's what it was, that it could be so easy;that Seunghyun could disappear and that could be the end of it, because hearing Seungri's retelling of events, Jiyong feels it in his gut, it's not that simple.  
  
'--- So he left after that and he didn't come back,' Seungri says, wrapping up. 'I guess he's with his family or something. I talked to him on the phone, he said he's okay. I sent flowers anyway. They won't do much, but it's better than nothing. She was nice the few times we met her. It's pretty sad'.

Seunghyun's grandmother is dying.  
  
Jiyong listens to the whole story and pictures Seunghyun's every move from the moment he got the phone-call. It makes Jiyong miserable to think about it.

He wonders which Grandmother it is that's clinging to life in the Seoul National University Hospital. Seunghyun loved both his grandmothers but one a little more than the other. His grandmother on his fathers side was nice but doted on his sister. His grandmother on his mothers side was a little sharper. She made jokes you didn't expect her to make and Seunghyun was her favourite. She smothered him with love and he called her almost every week.

'Which grandmother?' Jiyong asks, suddenly feeling so tired the earth could swallow him whole and he wouldn't fight it.  
  
'Mothers side, I think'.  
  
For a blessed brief moment of respite, his headache eases back, as if to give him room to think--- to make the right decision. What to do. Where to go. What to say.

Jiyong remembers the few crises he and Seunghyun weathered when they were together. He remembers Seunghyun's inability to cope on his own and his persistence in _being_ alone anyway. Whenever something bad happened he locked himself away. Jiyong had to tell him over and over, _things aren't always easier on your own._

Even surrounded by family, Jiyong can see Seunghyun turning away from them. He can see him holed up in his apartment trying to sleep it all away, thinking a little time can make it all go away.

An ache forms in Jiyong's gut and all he wants is to _see_ him, to check on him, to make sure he's alright because despite everything-- he still gives a shit. He just does. It's one thing to not want to see Seunghyun when times are good, it's another entirely to not want to see him when times are bad.  
  
Seunghyun is family.

Jiyong wonders how bad it really is for Seunghyun's grandmother, if there's some chance this is just a false alarm; How many days has it been _exactly_ since he got the news he might lose her? How many of those days was he alone?

Seungri gives what information he has and Jiyong stores it all away, trying to put it in a box where it can't hurt him

  
  


 

*

  


 

Seungri waits for a break in the rain to make a run for it and then he's gone. Metres from the car he disappears completely. Sheets of rain close in behind him.

Jiyong reaches blindly for his phone, sunglasses on, head pressed against the glass to let the coolness seep into his skin. He wrestles with his anxiety. He tries to fight down latent responsibility, the voice in his head saying, ' _If I don't go, who will? Who will look after him?'_ Like Seunghyun's a child who needs a mother.

Old habits-- and fear maybe. Fear that Seunghyun's _not_ alright, fear that he'll disappear again. Jiyong doesn't want that, not really. He doesn't want Seunghyun to be gone again, to be so far away that he can't reach him. Somehow, the thought of it is unbearable.  
  
He tries not to let the situation overwhelm him but he's filled with the need to do something, to feel something, to hear a certain voice that could make it go away. It needs to go away.

Hyeong-bae answers (too loud) and Jiyong makes a sound of protest.   
  
'Talk quiet,' he begs.  
  
'Headache?'  
  
A mumbled confirmation is all Hyeong-bae gets in response, the pain shooting down behind Jiyong's eyes.

'You were fine this-morning,' Hyeong-bae says sympathetically. 'Maybe you should see a Doctor'.

Jiyong's thought about it once or twice, three, four, _five_ times a day since the first headache sent him to his knees. (BUT) they're just headaches, they'll go away on their own --- _I'll drink more water, I'll exercise, I'll get more sleep._ He has a dozen ways of dealing with them. One of them will stick.  
  
'We talked about that'.

_'You_ talked about it,' Hyeong-bae answers, 'I can't force you. I just think you should go'.

Jiyong sighs and they fall into silence. He watches a man ahead of him struggle with a yellow umbrella.  
  
'Where are you?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Are you alright to get home?'  
  
'I'm fine'.

Jiyong opens his eyes to two dashboards, two steering wheels, one overlapping the other. The inside of the car spins for a while but moves back into focus with time.

'I've got to do something on my way home,' Jiyong says. 'I'm going to be late'.  
  
'How late? Can't it wait? If your head hurts as bad as it sounds, you should come home'.  
  
And that sounds nice. He sounds nice. Hyeong-bae's deep authoritative voice saying, _come home._ Jiyong _wants_ to. He wants to crawl into bed and be taken care of and looked after.

'An hour, maybe two. It can't wait,' he says. ‘Not really. It has to be now'.

Hyeong-bae sighs in that drawn out way parents sigh at disappointing children, but he knows better than to fight him on most things.

'Fine. _Two hours_. Call me if you need anything'.

 

  


* * *

 

 

Jiyong sits in Seunghyun's driveway, staring out at the same heavy rain he watched beat down against the window two weeks earlier. Sitting idle for ten minutes while still belted in, there's a sense of deja vu. His hands latch lazily onto the bottom of the steering wheel like he's driving still and in some sensible part of his mind, he is. He's on the road, half-way home to his own apartment, to painkillers and peace and quiet.

He waits for the rational part of his mind to take over, to wake from its slumber and force his hand, _put the car in reverse and back the hell out of here_. It doesn't come. He _waits_ , each second marked by a jolt in the side of his head that makes him flinch, the pain so precise and sharp his whole body jolts like he's been hit. Two weeks earlier this kind of headache was enough to put him down. Now, he's almost used to it.

Seunghyun's house is dark in the rain and Jiyong wonders if he's home at all. The storm clouds overhead sink the city into premature darkness. Other houses within the gates are lit up from within but not his. Maybe Seungri was right and he's with his family, somewhere else, at his mother’s or at the hospital. What are visiting hours anyway?

He uses the rain as an excuse to be still, to be safe in the warmth of his car, his head pressed against the window. The rain beating down against the roof makes the hairs on his arms stand tall.

_I don't want to do this, I don't want to see him, I don't want to talk to him._  
  
The anxiety moves through him; It doesn't care about the past. It doesn't care about Jiyong's broken heart. It doesn't care about the words, _'I thought you would be okay'_ and all the reasons Seunghyun never should have thought so. Seunghyun left him and ruined him and despite it all, Jiyong is here because this is an extenuating circumstance and he _has_ to be here. What kind of person would he be if he wasn't? It was never a question of whether or not he came, it was only a matter of what he'd say when he got here.

Maybe it's not so simple as out of sight, out of mind.

A part of him was naïve enough to think it would be, the last time he was here. A part of him thought those parting words, _'Stay away from me,'_ would somehow make it better.  
  
Sitting here now, Jiyong realises that only works up to a point because he remembers Seunghyun's laugh from two weeks earlier. He remembers his long fingers picking their photograph up off the counter and into his pocket. He remembers Seunghyun's smile when remembering things long over. He remembers Seunghyun's fingers settling between his own and how familiar and comforting it was to hold his hand. He remembers Seunghyun leaning close and he remembers meeting him in the middle without hesitation. He remembers there was never a question of whether or not to kiss him back.

Jiyong remembers loving him, not just back when things were good, but two weeks ago when he was saying they were over, they were _done_ \--- because he does love him. The ache in his gut isn't sympathy for a friend, it's empathy. Jiyong feels what Seunghyun feels because even if he doesn't _like_ him, he still loves him and it doesn't matter that things have changed, that they can never go back, that their lives are moving away from each other because that one thing _hasn't_ changed.

Jiyong loves him. Not the way he used to maybe, but it's there and there's no part of him able to hear that he's in trouble and not check on him. It doesn't matter that Seunghyun didn't return the favour, that maybe he wouldn't even now. It just doesn't matter.

_Maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment,_ he thinks.

Jiyong sits and waits, biding his time. He thinks and plans every word and step and re-plans until he can barely think straight. His thoughts muddle and repeat themselves. His headache turns him around. He gets frustrated. His fist hits the horn by accident. The loudness of it cuts through his head like a knife. It leaves him shaking, hands clutching the side of his head until the echo stops. He can't remember the last time his head hurt so badly and for a moment, a more rational side of his brain chimes in. _Don't do this now. Go home and lie down. Come back tomorrow. Seunghyun's probably not even home. What difference can one day make?_  
  
But then he's there.

Jiyong sees light on his periphery, over the surrounding wall that shields Seunghyun's door from the street. He's there in the rain, standing at the top of his stairs

Jiyong rests his head on the steering wheel and thinks how unsurprising it is to know Seunghyun heard his car horn go off, and the fact he must have windows open in the rain. If anyone would open their windows while wind blows rain sideways up and down the city, it's Seunghyun.

There's a tap on the glass beside him and Jiyong's heart almost gives out in surprise.  He undoes his seatbelt, turns the car off and opens the door to find Seunghyun there, in his _pyjamas_ holding an umbrella aloft.  
  
'Hi,' Seunghyun shouts, loud enough to be heard above the rain. He looks surprised and unsure of himself and Jiyong can't blame him. Jiyong wonders how he looks in return. He grimaces and gives a short wave in answer, embarrassed and feeling like death frozen over, a herd of elephants stomping over his grave.  
  
'What's up?' Seunghyun yells.  
  
Jiyong grits his teeth in pre-emptive hurt before answering, so loud his own voice seems to rattle inside his skull.   
  
'Can I come up?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and steps back so Jiyong can get out, sunglasses in hand for protection. He leads him through the gate and up the stairs, shielding him from the rain.  


  
  


* * *

 

 

Jiyong has no idea what to do, when to speak or what to say. For all his practise in the car, he's unsure of himself. Seunghyun wasn't supposed to be home. He wasn't supposed to chaperone him up the stairs. He wasn't supposed to be wearing his _pyjamas_. He wasn't supposed to look so ---

'Can I get you a drink?'  
  
Seunghyun dumps the wet umbrella by the door and moves into the kitchen, leaving Jiyong by the front door wondering if Seungri made a mistake. Jiyong imagined Seunghyun's grief-stricken face answering the door with red eyes and dark rings. The face of someone who hadn't slept in a week out of worry and sheer misery.

Seunghyun doesn't look like that.

'No,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'I'm okay'.  
  
What he sees from a distance is one of _many_ surprising things. With the grief-stricken face, the red eyes, the _dark rings_ \-- Jiyong expected certain things. He expected Seunghyun to down a glass or five of wine, then another and _another,_ like the last time he was here – but he doesn't. Seunghyun doesn't drink at all.  
  
He fills a glass of water from the tap.

Jiyong steps back, stunned into silence as Seunghyun moves past him, over to the couch. He pushes a throw rug and some cushions onto the floor. There's an ashtray on the ground with a dozen cigarette butts mangled inside and a plate with crumbs on it.  
  
Seunghyun's been sleeping on the lounge, at least for a while. He was probably there when Jiyong smacked his car horn like a moron. Maybe he was sleeping.

For all that, Seunghyun looks okay. He looks a little tired and empty, a little too calm and easy-going--- but his fuzzy growing hair looks clean and Jiyong smells shampoo. Seunghyun's clean and his face a little less gaunt. Cigarette smell aside, there are no wine bottles by the bin or on the counter so he's been drinking less, not just today but for a while.

Chain smoking and sleeping on the couch, yeah, but also showering and _eating_ and _not drinking._  
  
Jiyong expected something else, for Seunghyun to be less together.

He sits down on the couch beside Seunghyun and watches him light up a cigarette, wondering if Seungri played a joke on him. Maybe he walked into a parallel universe where Seunghyun is well adjusted and nothing bad ever happened here, or anywhere. Sinking down into the couch cushions, Jiyong's headache momentarily eases as though it's found what it was looking for. As though two weeks of petulant tantrums and violent arguments were all leading to this; sitting back against these pillows, watching him take a drag of a cigarette.

Deep down, Jiyong still feels comfortable here. He lived here too long, had too many memories, felt too many things inside this apartment. Seunghyun looks so ordinary and mild mannered, it's easy to remember what life was like before. It makes him feel guilty and mildly annoyed.  
  
He has a life outside these walls, but here-- he has another one. A life taken from him that comes back, bright and vivid every time he steps inside the door. He has to remind himself it's not real. They're just memories.

'Smoking in the house again, huh?'  
  
Seunghyun blows smoke in the opposite direction, turning the smallest amount to face him.

'Well, my sister screamed at me after your _last_ visit'. Seunghyun waves his cigarette theatrically in the air, mirroring Jiyong's actions the last time he was here. He puts on the condescending voice Jiyong knows his sister has when she's angry. _'I thought you quit. You promised Mom you wouldn't smoke any more, rar rar rar'._ Seunghyun takes a drag. 'So there's no point now, is there? Besides, she took her dog back. She won't come back for a while. I gave a convincing speech. I've quit smoking for good _this_ time'.  
  
He leans back into the couch cushions and blows a smoke ring.   
  
Jiyong scoffs.  
  
'You're an inspiration'.  
  
'You too,' Seunghyun answers lightly. 'You told me to stay away from you and here you are'.  
  
The vague smile from Jiyong's face disappears and his headache comes back a little stronger, the nausea _tap-tapping_ in his gut, reminding him of its constant presence. He clears his throat and tucks a leg beneath him.  
  
'I heard about your grandmother. Besides, I told you to stay away from _me._ I didn't say I'd stay away from _you'._

Seunghyun scoffs at the distinction and offers his cigarette to Jiyong who takes a drag or two and passes it back.  
  
'Anyway,' Jiyong says, mirroring Seunghyun's way of talking, 'These are extenuating circumstances, aren't they'.  
  
'Are they? Why?'  Seunghyun leans forward and pulls the ashtray into his lap. He props it on his knee and leans back again, flicking ash into the glass. 'Because my grandmother is dying? That changes things?'  
  
Jiyong grimaces.

'No, it doesn't change anything'.  
  
'But here you are anyway'.  
  
'I guess'.

Seunghyun looks across at him and eyes him up and down as if to confirm he _is_ there _,_ flesh and bone and warm skin. A look passes across his face that Jiyong can't read.

He watches him for a while trying to understand his composure. He doesn't know how to talk to him or how to comfort someone who doesn't seem as though they need it. _It can't be real._ He's seen Seunghyun fall apart too many times to think he could weather this storm so easily.

'I'm really sorry about your grandma,' he says quietly. 'Seungri told me earlier and I wanted to see how you were'.  
  
'It is what it is,' Seunghyun answers. 'People die'.

The sentiment makes Jiyong feel ill.

'She's not _people_ ,' Jiyong says. 'She's your grandmother and you love her'.

Seunghyun puts out his cigarette and adopts a certain tone, like Jiyong's a child who doesn't understand the world, _when you grow up you'll get it_ – that sort of thing. He puts the ashtray on the table and leans back, running a hand through his bristling hair.  
  
'They don't live forever'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes widen in surprise and he grimaces again. A searing pain jolts through him like a bolt of lightning tearing him in half. It's so violent and sudden a quiet sound escapes him. Seunghyun looks his way and Jiyong stands abruptly.  
  
'Can I get some aspirin?' His eyes focus on the spinning floor.

'They're in the usual spot. You okay?'  
  
Jiyong grimaces and whispers a quiet, _'fine,_ ' in response.

He downs a pill from the cabinet and then another and then two more because the recommended dose couldn't possibly be enough. This isn't a recommended dose kind of pain. He cradles his head in the kitchen, one eye on Seunghyun in the lounge-room who doesn't move or flinch. Seunghyun is a statue. A statue that says things like, _'people die'_ , and _'they don't live forever'._

Two years ago Seunghyun put up the money to save his grandmother’s house. It was older than she was, falling apart at the seams but she wouldn't leave it. Seunghyun made sure it was fixed up, renovated, made new yet still _home_. Jiyong can't imagine that person saying, _'people die'._

'People don't just die,' Jiyong says quietly from the kitchen. 'They're important. People matter and when they die, they leave people behind. People like you _,'_ Jiyong says _. '_ You fixed up her house, you called her every week, you knew her favourite colour and her favourite flower and she could read you like a book. She loved you and you loved her,' he says. 'I doubt any of that has changed'.

He walks back to the lounge-room slowly, the room spinning just enough to make his steps unsure. When he sits it's by Seunghyun's side, so close their thighs are almost touching. He doesn’t feel well enough to stand up again to move further away.

'So don't give me that bullshit, _'people die,'_ like it doesn't matter because it does,' Jiyong continues. 'Don't even say things like that. It’s not funny’.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and brings a hand to his eyes, rubbing them each in turn with his knuckle.

'What do you want me to do? Do you want me to cry and scream and get drunk looking at photo albums? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you helped me somehow?'  
  
'You think I came over to feel better about myself?'  
  
'I don't know _what_ you came here for'.

Jiyong laughs quietly the way Seunghyun did.  
  
'I was worried about you. Silly me'.  
  
Seunghyun shakes his head. He says nothing. He faces ahead, staring at the blank screen of the television like he's done so many times before. Like he can see things in there that make the real world inadequate. Jiyong follows suit and mimics his posture. He folds his arms and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. He tries to find in the dim screen what Seunghyun does but finds nothing there but his reflection

Jiyong slouches. Plush pillows moulding around his neck. He hums quietly-- the elevator music to their joint silence. The tune carries to the bass of the _thud thud thud_ in his head.

He's almost dozing off when Seunghyun speaks again, his voice wavering.

'I don't want to talk about her, okay,' he whispers. 'I don't want to _think_ about her. I don't want to hear her voice in my head. I don't want to remember her. I don't want to see all the things I'm trying not to see. I don't want it,' he urges. 'Not today, not now, not with you. I don't want to _talk_ about her'.

He says it suddenly and without reason. He says it all in a way that screams his true meaning. He’s suffering and he needs to talk about it, but Jiyong understands if he can't, not today, not now, not with _him_. He understands what Seunghyun sees in the blank tv sometimes.

'We don't have to talk about her,' Jiyong answers quietly, looking up at him. 'We don't have to talk at all'.  
  
Seunghyun wipes a sudden tear from his face and clears his throat, still staring straight ahead, into the black abyss of the flat screen.

'Okay'.

'We may not be together any more,' Jiyong says quietly. 'But we're still family. We can sit here and not say anything for as long as you want’.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly, sniffing, pushing it _all_ back, far away, far far away. Sniffling and choking back the tears and the feelings, shunting them away to some place else, somewhere they can't find him, somewhere they can't hurt him, somewhere they can't _mean_ anything because crying means something is wrong. Crying means his Grandmother really _is_ across town in a hospital bed about to disappear forever. Crying makes it real.

Jiyong sees it all on Seunghyun's face and it breaks his heart. Without asking, he grabs Seunghyun's hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing tight.

It is a familiar gesture that comes easily to him. In the past, whenever Seunghyun was in trouble or feeling down, his hand would reach out and no matter where Jiyong was, he found a way to take it the way he was taking it now.

Seunghyun laughs again but it's broken and when Jiyong looks up at him, Seunghyun is falling apart, his body racked with sobs. The only thing keeping him in one piece is the small part of his universe that Jiyong has a hold of.

  


 

* * *

(tears, sobs, sniffles and one unintended nap later)

 

 

 

Jiyong wakes to the dark and silence and heat. There's a moment when all three are so suffocating, so inescapable he thinks he might be dead. He has memories of sleep paralysis and it's almost like that except there's no waiting for all the pieces to reboot.

There is a pain in his head so violent his whole body jerks forward. His hands ball into fists, squeezing against his skull at either side, as if adding to the pressure will somehow help, as if it might somehow contain it.

There's a hand on his back in an instant, Seunghyun asking _'What's wrong?'_  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer. He waits. It's all he can do. He finds a delicate balance, a finite space in the universe that can dull the pain. If he moves one millimetre it will disappear. So he sits hunched over, eyes clenched shut, his fists pressing down against his skull until it passes --- and it does, it always does.

It downgrades from _calling an ambulance_ pain to the lesser _waiting in triage_ kind. The gap between them is wide and after the pain that woke him, the pain that follows is almost a relief. He leans back carefully, trying not to disturb the delicate peace his body has agreed upon.

He feels nauseous. He's suddenly aware of his clothes sticking to him. He's drenched in sweat and he feels guilty for doing this, for sweating all over Seunghyun's couch and for falling asleep on him. He slowly pulls his sweater away from his stomach and feels the shirt beneath clinging to his skin.

Seunghyun disappears and Jiyong means to say something, but nothing comes. He feels off.

Seunghyun returns with a glass of water and Jiyong takes it gratefully, able at last to explain at the lowest audible volume, _'Bad headache. Sorry. I get them sometimes'_.

'How often?' Seunghyun asks, hovering, his own voice quiet like a mouse.

'I don't know'.  
  
And Jiyong _doesn't_ know, he's forgotten. All he remembers is that he gets them now and they hurt. He wants to apologise for falling asleep. It was rude to come here and do this, to let his headache draw attention from more important things but he can't find the words or the courage to open his mouth because of his nausea. It draws up inside him. He can feel it. His mouth waters.

He stands abruptly, swaying on his feet. He should go. He has to go home and throw up and get clean and _he has to throw up_. _Christ._

He makes it half way to the door, bumping into everything in sight.

'I have to go home, I don't feel good, I'm sorry. I'll come back---'.

His body tries to be sick but Jiyong refuses. _Not in this house, not right now_.

He reaches for the door but it's metres away and he turns, disoriented, head in his hands. Seunghyun is there in an instant, a hand on his lower back, guiding him slowly and gently into the bathroom saying, _'This way, watch your feet ---'_  
  
Jiyong tries to resist. He tries to explain to Seunghyun that he _has_ to go home. He tries to explain all the reasons he can't stay, all the reasons he can't throw up here, all the reasons he can't have Seunghyun's hand on his lower back or his gentle voice in his ear.

He doesn't know how much, if any, makes it out of his mouth.

Seunghyun nudges him gently when they reach tile and Jiyong sinks down in front of the toilet, a drop of sweat hitting the seat almost immediately. His hair is clinging to the sides of his face and that alone adds to his nausea.

The light comes on and he flinches, recoiling so violently he hits his head on the toilet and moans in self-pity.

The light goes off and Seunghyun quietly apologises.

'I'm dying,' Jiyong whispers, cheek flat on the toilet seat. 'I always die in bathrooms'.  
  
'What does that mean?' Seunghyun asks, pottering around behind him. 'And you're not dying, you have a migraine, obviously'.

Jiyong mumbles in response and swallows down another almost-vomit.

Seunghyun's voice comes next from somewhere behind him and Jiyong turns enough to see him on his knees rolling up his sleeves.

'What are you _doing?_ ' Jiyong asks, though he's sure it sounds more like _'whr-doon?'_

'Turn around and lift your head up'.  
  
Jiyong scrunches his face up like a child in front of their least favourite vegetables] but does as he's told. His hair is _pulled_. His hair falls down his neck, the elastic band yanked out --- then Seunghyun's got his hands in his hair, pulling all of it back and up, tying it into a floppy little bun at the top of his head.  
  
'Now you won't vomit all through your hair'.  
  
Jiyong snorts but it's a mistake, gagging almost immediately over the toilet, saving himself at the last second.  
  
'Just vomit,' Seunghyun says. 'You can't swallow it down forever'.

'I don't _want_ to vomit in your toilet,' Jiyong murmurs. ' _Your grandma is sick and you're upset. This a thing. I can't vomit in your toilet in the middle of a thing, do you get that?'_

Jiyong lifts his head high enough to see Seunghyun smiling.

'Oh, I'm glad I've cheered you up,' Jiyong whispers. 'Glad I … _ergh'._

He feels it rise up in his throat and cuts himself off.  
  
'Lift your arms up,' Seunghyun says.  
  
Jiyong does it, no questions asked. Before he can question it, his sweater is yanked up and over his head (after getting caught momentarily on his scowling face). Jiyong flops back down over the toilet seat, suffocating slightly less.  
  
'That’s good,' he whispers _._  
  
Then, powerless, he does what he doesn't want to do. He is sick. Each time he comes up for air, Seunghyun is there, two feet away, not gagging or pulling a face or looking disgusted either. He’s just there.

Seunghyun disappears for a moment but reappears when Jiyong's panic sets in and then he is behind him again, a cold washer wiping the sweat from his face while he rides out the dry-heaves.

'This is a beautiful moment we've shared,' Jiyong whispers drily when it's all over, cheek flat against the toilet-seat. 'Thanks for being a part of it'.

Seunghyun just smiles in answer and says, 'You're welcome. Feel better?'  
  
'No. I'm sorry for this, and for falling asleep'.  
  
'I fell asleep too, It's okay. Thanks for --- all that'.  
  
'You're welcome. Feel better?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Five minutes later Jiyong is on his old side of the bed --- _Seunghyun's bed._ Head buried in the pillow, legs curled up like a child, he tries to remember things he's supposed to remember.  
  
Seunghyun closes the black-out curtains until the room is pitch black like the dead of night but for a crack of light coming through the bedroom door. There is a cold washer on his forehead, water on the bedside table, a bucket on the floor.

Jiyong mumbles half-remembered priorities, needing to be home for reasons --- but his head still hurts and he feels exhausted and Seunghyun keeps saying the right thing to do is ' _Just lay down and ride it out'_ \--- and he's probably right.

 

  
  
  


* * *

(One hour and one nap later)

 

 

 

 

'You know I didn't come here so you could look after me. I came here so I could ---'

'Look after _me?'_ Seunghyun answers.  
  
'I wasn't going to say that'.  
  
'You didn't have to'.

Jiyong watches Seunghyun's profile. He's sitting against the headboard with his ankles crossed, an ashtray on his stomach and a cigarette between his fingers. He looks tired but maybe that's the light or the shadow from the open bedroom door.

Jiyong's fingers land on a photograph between them, a picture Seunghyun found in a drawer of his grandmother in her new kitchen. He brought it out when Jiyong asked him to talk for a while, _about anything, I don't care, distract me_.

She was nice and beautiful and strong. The first time Jiyong met her, Youngbae fell down the stairs in front of her, his own grandparents and Seungri's entire family. Seunghyun laughed at the memory and Jiyong did too, even though it hurt.

'He'd kick your ass for bringing that up again,' Seunghyun said, taking a drag.  
  
'I know'.  
  
'Do you miss him?'  
  
'Yeah. Do you miss Dae?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'They'll be back soon. Just a few months now'.  
  
_'Yeah_ '.

They talked about a lot of things and it wasn't painful. No conversation landed uncomfortably on their relationship or what came after. For a little while, all the painful memories just --- faded. More than that, it was nice to talk to him.  
  
Jiyong slides the photograph across the bed.  
  
'Is she really dying?' he asks quietly. 'There's no hope? None at all?'  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers, taking another drag. 'It's her heart. The Doctors told us they're trying a few things but it's obvious they can't do anything. Not really. They can keep her going for another week, maybe two but there's nothing they can do. _'Surgery at her age simply isn't a viable option,'_ he says, quoting some Doctor or other.

'I'm really sorry,' Jiyong answers quietly. He throws an arm out, stretching just far enough for his forefinger to touch Seunghyun's leg. He leaves it there as a small gesture of solidarity.

Seunghyun flicks ash into the ashtray on his stomach and looks down to where Jiyong's fingertip connects with the fabric of his pants. A look passes across his face that Jiyong can't figure out but it's gone as quick as it came. Seunghyun looks down at his toes, crossing his ankles the other way.

Silence descends for a while and it's not uncomfortable. Jiyong loses himself in his thoughts and he doubts Seunghyun is thinking much of anything if the look on his face is anything to go by--- and maybe that's a merciful thing. It would be so much easier not to think and feel.

Jiyong pulls his hand back.  
  
'Are you dating anyone?'

Seunghyun looks across at him, eyebrows furrowed.

'Sorry,' Jiyong says. 'I was just thinking about something and --- I guess i'm curious'.  
  
'I'm not,' he answers.

'Were you?' Jiyong asks. 'When you were away? Did you see anyone?'

Seunghyun stubs his cigarette out and puts the ashtray on the bed.  
  
'What are you doing?'  
  
'We're just talking,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'Did you? Date anyone?'  
  
Seunghyun hesitates but answers, 'No,' and Jiyong believes him because for all Seunghyun's failings, and there's a list a million miles long, he's never lied to his face. Withheld information, yeah, disappeared without a word, sure --- but never _lied (_ except that one time with a quiet _see you tomorrow,_ but Jiyong doesn't like to think about that).  
  
'Did you fuck anyone?' he asks, this question quieter than the others. Less important, but somehow not.

Seunghyun pulls a new cigarette from the pack on the bed and puts it in his mouth without lighting it. He's silent for a while and then he answers, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

  
'Yes'.  
  
Yes?  
  
That one small word sends a shock wave through Jiyong so unexpected, so sudden and violent his stomach caves. All the air in his body seems to disappear like it were never there at all. He wants to sit up and vomit or shout or cry or break everything in sight but the flood of emotion that bowls him over, keeps him down. He doesn't move. He can't. What could he say? What could he possibly say?

He just lies there on the bed they used to share with each other, on the side he used to keep warm.

_Yes?_

In another lifetime on this same bed, with a Seunghyun who looked a lot like this one, Jiyong kind of saw him as _a million moments_. Seunghyun told him how little sense that made. He couldn't figure out if it was a compliment or an insult and Jiyong spent twenty tired minutes trying to explain with fumbling fingers high in the air, that that's what Seunghyun was to him.

A million moments. A million hours, minutes and seconds. A million thoughts, sounds, feelings, touches, hurts and loves, one after the other. Each minute together mattered, even the ones that hurt. They were important.

In the whole of Jiyong's life, Seunghyun was the million moments that mattered.

Seunghyun laughed back then at how _'romantic'_ Jiyong was, like what he'd said was a joke or some wacky daydream born from tiredness at 3am. Despite that, Jiyong had thought or hoped he felt the same way.

But he obviously didn't.

Seunghyun chose to become a series of moments in someone else's life instead.  
  
'When?' Jiyong asks, his voice a whisper. 'Who did you fuck? How many people? How many times? _Why?_ '

He drags himself up against the headboard wondering how he came to be here, what cruel turn of events led to Seungri's lost wallet, their conversation in the car and him coming here. What kind of world could let them _sit_ here together, side by side, like this wasn't there all along. Like every glimpse of Seunghyun when he came back from Japan wasn't somehow tainted by _this._

'There were three people,' Seunghyun answers quietly. 'Once each'.

'Three different people? You fucked _three_ different people while you were gone? I don't even _know_ you anymore. When was the first?'  
  
'I don't remember'.  
  
'When was the _first?_ ' Jiyong repeats. 'Tell me the truth. Don't lie to me. How long after you left? How long did you wait?'

Seunghyun pulls his unlit cigarette from his mouth and holds it in his lap, staring at it like it has all the answers, like maybe it can answer for him.  
  
'Two months maybe. It wasn't long'.  
  
He doesn't say it to be cruel, if anything he sounds guilty but that counts for nothing because _two months._  
  
Jiyong laughs suddenly, bringing his knees up to his chest. He covers his face and he laughs and his laugh turns into tears and he can't stop. He can't hold back the  tears streaming down his face or the pain in his gut.  
  
'Do you know what I was doing two months after you left?' Jiyong asks, wiping tears from his face. His voice skips and he has to repeat himself to be heard. 'I was lying on my bathroom floor, half-dead because I drank myself to death from _missing_ you. Two months in, I was unconscious on my bathroom floor in my own piss-stained jeans, that's how far gone I was. If someone hadn't been there I would have died. That's how I would have gone out,' he says bitterly. 'That's how my parents would have said goodbye to me, with my face papered across every website and magazine cover in the country. Maybe even a picture of my bathroom or my blurred corpse. People love that stuff, don't they. A gory shot of my legs sticking out of a pixellated box. My last photo shoot'.  
  
Hearing these words, Seunghyun reels. He slips off the bed and cradles his head, his hands resting on the back of his neck like he's laying on a beach without a care in the world but his face is twisted. Flushed. He paces two feet back and forth, over and over and over.  
  
'And it was all for you,' Jiyong says, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a first grader. 'Because I couldn’t function without you. That's where I was while you were balls deep in someone else. You _prick'._  
  
'That didn't happen,' Seunghyun says emphatically, stationary at last. 'You didn't do that. Tell me that didn't happen'.  
  
He says it so convincingly, he could turn a jury. _It didn't happen_.

'You wouldn't do that,' he says. 'You wouldn't be so fucking stupid'.  
  
Jiyong laughs and wipes his eyes.  
  
'I guess we're both full of surprises today'.  
  
Seunghyun scoffs like he's heard a joke, joining in on Jiyong's unhappy laughter. Then, a pained noise escapes him and his fist connects with a wall. Jiyong jumps at the sudden violence. Seunghyun hits the same place two or three times and makes a noise that Jiyong's never heard before. It’s primal and wounded.  
  
Then he turns and it's like it never happened. It’s like he's been to a monastery and drawn pictures with a rake in a sandpit to release all his rage and misery.

Jiyong can see that he's hurt his hand. He almost asks if Seunghyun is alright before thinking better of it. _Why should I care? He deserves it._

Seunghyun slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. He stares at his own toes to avoid looking up.  
  
'Who did you have sex with?' Jiyong asks, mirroring Seunghyun's posture. He crawls to the centre of the bed and tucks his legs beneath him.

'Two strangers. Women,' Seunghyun answers. 'I didn't know them. I don't remember their names'.  
  
‘Women?’ Jiyong scoffs. ‘You don’t even _like_ women’. He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse, if it’s proof of Seunghyun’s insanity. ‘The third?'  
  
'Some guy. One of Johns friends'.

Some _guy._

_A man._

'Anyone I know?' Jiyong asks, voice cracking mid-way.  
  
Seunghyun pretends not to hear.  
  
'I doubt it. He was Japanese. He couldn't speak Korean'.

'Then how did you _fuck_ him?' Jiyong asks bitterly. ‘You speak five words of Japanese. How did you end up _fucking_ him? How did you ask him? Sign language? Did you mime sucking a dick?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer right away and in the short time given him, Jiyong's heart pre-emptively splits in two.  
  
'Did you fuck him or did he fuck you?'

One look at Seunghyun's face and he knows the answer.  
  
'You let some guy you couldn't even talk to _fuck_ you? What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Did you get hit on the head? Were you high? How did you _meet_ this guy? In some back alley? Is that how you spent your nights over there?'

'John came and saw me a few months ago. We went out drinking, a few of his friends were in the area. John introduced us. It just happened'.

There's a delay after Seunghyun finishes speaking. It takes time for Jiyong to process his words and their implications and all the ways they _hurt_ him and will continue to hurt him long after this day is over.

Jiyong edges back and slips off the bed, holding his head.  
  
'You let him see you?' he asks quietly. 'You let your director friend _see_ you? But not me? I wasn’t worth a phone call or a postcard?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer.  
  
Seungri got phone calls. John Lee the Director got a visit. Three random strangers got Seunghyun's nights.  
  
Jiyong got _nothing._  
  
The full weight of what that means _crushes_ him. It's instantaneous, like a dead leaf crushed in his palm. One moment he's a human being and the next--- he doesn't know what he is. He's in a million pieces. He sinks to his knees trying to hold it all in, trying to save a shred of dignity but he can't.  
  
'I'm so embarrassed,' he cries. 'I thought you loved me. All those years I _really_ believed you. Even when you were gone and everything told me otherwise, there was always this small part of me that believed in you'.  
  
Seunghyun walks around the edge of the bed until they're two feet apart and Jiyong looks him right in the eyes so he knows what a fool he has made of him.  
  
'I can't believe I was so stupid? Why would you do this to me? Why would you stay with me for so long? Was it all a big joke to you? All the years I've known you, was I just some fucking joke? Were we an experiment for you?'  
  
Seunghyun sinks to his knees also.  
  
'I gave you everything,' Jiyong whispers. ' _Everything_ I had, I gave to you. I told you everything about me. I gave it all to you until there was nothing left, not one secret or private thing that was mine because I trusted you, because I thought you loved me too. You made a fool out of me and I don’t know why?'

Jiyong wipes his eyes on his sleeve and tries to hold down the heaving sobs coming out of him.  
  
'I _did_ love you,' Seunghyun whispers.

Jiyong laughs bitterly.

‘You loved me? What a joke'.

'It was never a lie,' Seunghyun says strongly. 'It was never a joke'.  
  
Jiyong laughs and leans closer.  
  
'Okay, you _loved_ me. Let's pretend I believe you. Let's pretend there's even the smallest chance I could ever believe you after what I know now. When did you stop?'

Seunghyun grimaces.  
  
'Huh? When did you _stop l_ oving me?'  
  
Seunghyun grits his teeth but says nothing.

Nothing at all.  
  
Jiyong smiles and the knife in his gut moves straight through him, pieces of himself falling to the wayside in little piles on Seunghyun's bedroom floor. Pieces of him that will forever be here, stuck to the carpet like spilled wine.  
  
'I'm leaving,' Jiyong says quietly. 'I'm sorry about your grandmother'.  
  
And then he's up and he's gone and he's trying to remember where his shoes are because he has to get out of this house.

 

 

*

 

  
  
While Jiyong wrestles with his shoes, Seunghyun speaks up behind him.  
  
'Are you sure you can drive? With your head,' he explains. 'Is it better?'  
  
'I can drive,' Jiyong says without turning to face him. 'It's just a headache'.

He pulls open the heavy front door but turns half-in, half-out. He means to say something scathing, something cutting, something that could sting like, _'even if it wasn't better, I would rather crash my car than stay here with you'_.  
  
Seunghyun speaks first though. He speaks the second Jiyong turns as if afraid to lose a single moment, as if afraid one word from Jiyong's lips could stop him from saying what he needs to say.

'I didn't'.  
  
He blurts it out like a child who has held in some long-kept secret far too long.

'Didn't _what?_ '

'Stop loving you,' he says.

A chill wind blows through the door and Jiyong shivers, suddenly unable to take one definitive step in or out of the half-open door. He can't leave. He can't stay.

'You still _love_ me?'  
  
Seunghyun nods. He doesn't show any real emotion either way. He's unreadable and for a moment Jiyong wonders if he imagined it. If he heard voices carried on the wind and let his imagination get away from him.

'You _love_ me?'

'I do,' Seunghyun answers. 'And that changes nothing. It is what it is, I just ----' he pauses, stumbling over his words. _'Look,_ you asked me those questions and I told you the truth. I didn't say those things to hurt you. Those things I told you, those things I did? It was complicated'.

'Life is complicated Seunghyun, you're just an asshole'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs and the sound of it is like nails on a chalk board. Jiyong kicks the door closed behind him and within moments, they're toe to toe.  
  
'You _left_ me,' Jiyong says. 'You left me behind. You didn't have to go. I don't care what you think or what your reasons were for going, you didn't have to do it like that. You could have called me any day you were away, you could have left a note, sent a postcard or a letter. _Something_. You don't get to come back here and tell me you love me. You don't get to tell me you fucked other people and hung out with old friends while you were gone and then _laugh_ at me like this is all a big joke to you, because it isn't!'

'I wasn't laughing at you,' Seunghyun answers.

'Really?' Jiyong laughs. 'How can you stand here and tell me you love me when you slept with other people? You _fucked other people._ And that's not even the worst of it!' Jiyong cries. 'Sex is sex, I could forgive you that much, I really could, but the rest of it? You talked to Seungri while you were away. You talked to him on the phone and you let your director friend _visit_ you. You trusted both of them enough to know how you were and what you were doing and I got _nothing!_ You shut me out _completely._ You cut yourself off! I needed you and you were gone and there is nothing complicated about that. You made a choice. You left. Simple'.

_'It wasn't simple!'_

'Yes it _was!'_ Jiyong shouts. 'Every choice you made was a simple yes or no, a simple right or wrong. Don't tell me fucking strangers was complicated. Don't tell me a year of neglect was _complicated._ Every single day you had the choice to reach out to me and you didn't! Nothing in the world is that complicated. Don't give me this shit. Don't try to justify what you did or make it seem less than it was. You're selfish! You don't give a shit about me. You _never_ gave a shit!'

Seunghyun's lips crash into his in an instant, rough and possessive and desperate.

His hands frame Jiyong's face and he holds on tight, like if he loosens his grip for one tenth of a second, it will all go away and he isn't wrong. Jiyong plants both hands on Seunghyun's chest and pushes him away, dazed and confused and _angry_.

Seunghyun moves fast. He grabs Jiyong below his jaw and his fingers press in tightly. He gives him a little shake and says sharply, inches from his face, _'Listen to me'._

Jiyong's eyes widen in surprise. He flinches at the sudden pain. Seunghyun's fingers loosen. He looks apologetic but he doesn't let go.  
  
'Listen to me,' he repeats. 'You don't _get_ it'.

'You won't _explain_ it to me!' Jiyong snaps, voice mangled by Seunghyun's grip. 'What do you expect me to do? _How am I supposed to react?'_  
  
Seunghyun's fingers tighten and Jiyong quietens, subdued.

'My reason for going had nothing to do with you,' Seunghyun says. 'It wasn't _because_ of you, it wasn't because I didn't love you, it wasn't _about_ you, do you get that?'  
  
He says nothing until Jiyong nods, like a school kid being reprimanded by a teacher.  
  
'I don't regret leaving,' Seunghyun says. 'But I shouldn't have left the way I did leave. I shouldn't have done things the way I did them. I'm sorry for that. I'm _sorry._ I was sorry every day I was away and I've been sorry every day since I got back, but that doesn't fix it. I can't take it back, I can't make different choices, I can't make it better. I don't want to tell you why I left,' he says. 'I don't want to and I don't have to. I don't want you to know and you don't _want_ to know. It won't make things better, _trust me_. If I told you, you wouldn't sleep easier, you wouldn't feel better, you wouldn't get anything out of it'.  
  
Seunghyun loosens his grip but Jiyong doesn't move.

'I can't stand here and explain or defend myself. I just realised --- there's nothing I can say to you without telling you everything and I don't want to do that. All I can say is we were together for a long time, you and me. I remember the first time you said you loved me, I remember the first time we kissed, I remember the first time looking at you made me feel things I wasn't supposed to feel. I remember every stupid joke you told me, every secret, every useless bit of trivia you picked up and passed along. I remember every time you held my hand, every time you put yourself on the line for me, every time I failed you, every time I disappointed you, every time I felt inadequate next to you. I remember every time you made me feel strong and loved, every time you supported me, every time you encouraged me, every time you made me feel worthy of you. I remember every little thing about you because I loved you and I still love you. I will love you for the rest of my life whether it ends tomorrow, next week or in a hundred years, I will _love_ you'.  
  
Seunghyun's voice wavers towards the end and Jiyong's lips part in surprise.

'Why?' he asks.

'Because you are _a million moments_ to me,' Seunghyun says, repeating something Jiyong thought _long_ forgotten. 'Because in the whole of my life, you have been the million moments that mattered'.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

Jiyong holds Seunghyun's crumpled pack of cigarettes in his hands and smooths it out against his thigh. Wind blows across the alcove of the balcony, reducing the storm to a drawn out whine. The rain has stopped but thunder rumbles in the distance, dark clouds lingering still. The seat is wet.

He should have gone home.

Seunghyun gave his little speech then took a step back as if he'd made a mistake. It was a spur of the moment thing. He didn't mean to say anything that he did. Maybe he meant all those words, maybe he didn't. Either way, he said ' _I love you'._ Not just now and then but forever. A million moments. All of it.

The moment Seunghyun stepped away, Jiyong fled to the bedroom, grabbed his cigarettes off the bed and went out onto the balcony.

He pops one between his lips now, staring at the grey wall opposite. He counts the seconds between each round of thunder and fights with Seunghyun's lighter. It's almost empty. By the time his cigarette is lit, Seunghyun has followed him outside and moved to the stuccoed wall opposite. He sits on the ground, his legs stretched out across the damp concrete.

Jiyong takes a drag and coughs at the harshness of his stolen cigarette.

'How do you smoke these? Are you trying to kill yourself?'

He coughs into his fist like a kid taking his first drag. Seunghyun still smokes the kind of cigarettes that make your lungs shrivel up and your throat bleed. Or maybe Jiyong's just been out of the game too long. Xin criticises him sometimes for his preferred brand but he got used to the weaker stuff. His voice needed it. The brand he smoked when he was younger started messing him up. He got used to smoking the same cigarettes as his friend’s girlfriends and thirteen year old’s everywhere who thought they were hard.

Seunghyun doesn't answer the question and Jiyong doesn't care. It was mostly rhetorical. He doesn't care if Seunghyun talks or doesn't. He's not sure what either of them can say. Maybe they shouldn't try. Jiyong kicks his feet up onto the re-purposed chest of drawers-come-outdoor table and smokes his cigarette while looking up at the sky. He watches the clouds move overhead.

He came out here to think.

_Ha._

He blows smoke into the air. He has so much to think about but now that he's out here, everything running through his mind goes still. He thinks about other things instead. He finds shapes in the clouds and listens to the _drip drip drip_ of water falling from the gutter. Eventually the time between each drip grows longer and he runs out of cigarette.

He flicks the butt to the ground and covers the dim spark with his shoe. He reaches for a new one, lighting one for Seunghyun too. He passes it down and Seunghyun takes it with quiet thanks. Thunder rumbles overhead, closer than the last.  
  
‘What do you want?' Jiyong asks.

Seunghyun doesn't answer. His cigarette hangs from his fingers, hands curved in his lap. Jiyong wonders if he'll notice when ash lands in his crotch.

He used to wonder sometimes about the ' _tree falls in the forest'_ problem. What was Seunghyun like when no-one was around to watch him? Watching him now, Jiyong thinks this is it; Seunghyun staring into space, lost to the world. Maybe this is what he was like all those times they weren't together, Seunghyun, like a mechanical doll with no-one to wind him back up.

Seunghyun flicks ash onto the concrete like he was watching it all along.

'I don't know,' he says.

Jiyong looks up at the darkening sky and tries to remember what it was like before the weight in his chest made a permanent home there. He can feel the things he doesn't say sit inside him like stones. He wonders if Seunghyun feels it too.

'Why did you say those things to me?'

Seunghyun answers in a dull tone, 'because they were true'.  
  
'That's not an answer. Why now, after all this time? You've been back for weeks and weeks. I was here two weeks ago, shouting in your face and you weren't going to say anything? Why have you been acting the way you have? At work? Like you barely know me?'

'It's easier,' Seunghyun answers.

'In what way?'

'All of them'.

Seunghyun's head drops and he blows smoke from the corner of his mouth. He slumps forward like he's tired. Jiyong wants to press him but he can’t. Somehow, in this crucial moment, he isn't able to say all the things he wants to.

Like, didn't Seunghyun want something by coming back? Something different than what he got? Didn't he want them to be _friends_? If he loved him, why would he rather live without him than try to make amends?

Seunghyun flicks ash onto the concrete beside him and Jiyong feels a pain in his chest. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know where to go from here. He drags his feet up on to the chair and curls up, facing away from Seunghyun. He smokes the rest of his cigarette in silence, waiting for the rain to return.

 

 

 

 * * *

 

 

 

A vein of lightning streaks across the sky above him and Jiyong jumps, startled out of his lethargy by the deafening crack. He almost drops the last of his cigarette in his lap, brushing it onto the concrete before it can burn him. He steps on the smouldering end with his shoe and looks back at Seunghyun exactly where he was, unmoved.

Seunghyun is staring at the wall beside him the way people read books. Jiyong follows his gaze. He tries to see what Seunghyun can see but there's nothing but the indentations, the bumps and grooves of the plaster.

'What are you looking at?'  
  
'You don't remember?'  
  
Jiyong stares intently at the wall, he scans it up and down. He focuses on the plaster like it's a magic-eye puzzle. Finally, he sees it. A faint white line with another a little way above it.

'No _way!'_

He stands and moves to the wall. He runs his fingers over the lowest line. The marks are barely there now. It's been a long time. He thought the rain would have washed them away.

'You remember when I first bought this place?' Seunghyun asks.

'The first night I stayed over we had a fight,' Jiyong answers.

He does remember. It was stupid, they were drunk, he had a rough day. If it wasn't the fight they did have, it would have been something else. He needed a release. It was his fault.

Seunghyun pulls himself to his feet with a cautious smile.  
  
'You accused me of wearing _insoles_ '.  
  
Jiyong turns with a withering stare.

'You _grossly_ exaggerated your height back then. You told me you didn't wear them but I knew you did'.

'So you _said,_ ' Seunghyun answers. 'You told me we were almost the same size so I said ---'

 _'Prove it,'_ Jiyong cuts in. 'I dragged you out here and marked our heights on the wall like we were kids'.

'With nothing but our socks on and you were _still_ short'.  
  
'And I didn't talk to you for a week,' Jiyong says, embarrassed. 'I forgot all about that'.

He can barely remember the reasons why he did what he did, why he made a fuss over being shorter. Something happened during the day, something that made him feel small and powerless and Seunghyun joking around made him angry. Their first night together in Seunghyun's _first home_ ended abruptly at 2am with Jiyong calling a taxi from halfway down the street, furious without really knowing why.

Later he tried to wipe the marks off the wall but couldn't. He thought the rain would wash them away and he forgot about them. Seeing them now, he feels old. How long has it been since he scratched those lines into the concrete? Three years? Four? He can hardly remember when Seunghyun bought this place. It feels like he's always been here, twenty minutes away. A short drive up the road.

Jiyong backs against the wall and kicks his shoes off. The damp concrete makes his feet cold.  
  
'Have I grown?'  
  
Seunghyun finds a small stone in the corner. With his cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth, he marks the wall above Jiyong's head. He's careful to give Jiyong space, but close enough that Jiyong can smell his shampoo. There's lavender and something else, something more masculine. As he leans over, Jiyong can see a string around his neck disappearing beneath his collar. Brown. Leather maybe. A necklace? He never used to wear them. Seunghyun steps back and Jiyong turns to the wall.  
  
'Apparently you're shrinking'.  
  
The new line sits two centimetres below the last.  
  
'Oh,' Jiyong mutters. 'I forgot. I cheated last time'.  
  
Seunghyun turns to him with an accusatory look and Jiyong shrugs. He had to cheat. They both knew the height difference between them. Jiyong thought all the same, losing by a smaller margin would have made it easier somehow.  
  
'Your turn'.  
  
Seunghyun hands him the rock and Jiyong returns the favour. Jiyong wonders as he presses the stone against the wall if Seunghyun is looking at him, if he can smell him the way he smelled Lavender. Maybe it's better if he doesn't.

When they step back, it's a familiar problem. The new line is below the last.  
  
'You cheated too?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.

'I may have stood on the tips of my toes a little bit'.

Jiyong smiles and throws the stone in a potted plant in the corner.

'Two peas in a pod, huh?'

Seunghyun nods slowly and answers in the same uncertain tone, 'I guess so'.

He takes a drag of his cigarette and Jiyong sees his knuckles are swelling and already beginning to bruise. Two of them are split open. Seunghyun doesn't seem to notice but Jiyong can see it's hard for him to bend his fingers properly.

'You should put some ice on that'.  
  
Jiyong gestures at his hand. Seunghyun holds it in front of him like he's seeing it for the very first time and Jiyong wouldn't be surprised.  
  
'Oh,' he says. 'It's fine'.  
  
Jiyong picks the remaining cigarettes off the table and slides them into his pocket, confiscating them. He earned them. He's taking them. He opens the glass doors as the first drops of rain begin to fall.  
  
‘Come inside'.

 

 

 * * *

 

 

 

Seunghyun inhales sharply and pulls his hand out of Jiyong's grip, his jaw is clenched tight like a kid who has tripped and scraped his knee.

'Don't be a wuss'.  
  
Jiyong pulls Seunghyun's hand back and rolls the cotton ball over his knuckles a second time, making sure the antiseptic stings in all the right places. The cuts are small but poorly situated. Seunghyun will get a sharp reminder every time he moves his fingers. Maybe that's a good thing.

Seunghyun doesn't talk and Jiyong doesn't either. He leaves Seunghyun sitting on the lid of the toilet and tries to find a bandage or something. He doesn't know what to do with Seunghyun's swelling knuckles. Do you leave the hand alone? Do you wrap it up? Icing it seems obvious but apart from that? He's not a Doctor.

He finds a pitiful first aid kit below the bathroom sink that has five band-aids, a bandage missing its clip and some insect repellent.

'Ready for all emergencies, huh?'  
  
'Something like that'.  
  
Jiyong sits on the edge of the bath, opposite Seunghyun. He wraps the bandage around his knuckles and the bottom of his fingers. He ties it around Seunghyun's wrist as best he can.

'I'm not even sure if you're supposed to wrap this kind of thing up. I've never punched a wall before. Either way, having a bandage on might stop you from punching other things'.  
  
Jiyong grabs the frozen peas he found in the kitchen and dumps them on Seunghyun's knee. It was the only cold thing he could find. The ice cube trays were empty and the only other thing in the freezer was a half-empty tub of ice cream.

'Voila,' he says, patting Seunghyun's wrist, 'you're good to go'.

Seunghyun looks at where their hands meet and Jiyong follows his gaze, uncertain.

'What? Did I do it wrong?'  
  
He fiddles with the edges of the bandage and Seunghyun gives a tired half-smile.  
  
‘No, it’s good. Thanks’.

Their eyes meet and Jiyong finds himself remembering a similar moment in this very bathroom, a long time ago. He remembers sitting on the lid of the toilet where Seunghyun is sitting now, their roles reversed, positions swapped. His foot was in Seunghyun's lap, a small piece of glass stubbornly refusing to come out. He dropped a photo frame and stepped on a few invisible shards. Seunghyun came to the rescue with tweezers and Spiderman band-aids. He remembers laughing at that.

Jiyong holds Seunghyun's hand in his own, periodically prodding at the tender spots. Seunghyun frowns when it hurts but says nothing. Jiyong wonders how long he can torment him before Seunghyun says _stop._ He wonders if Seunghyun remembers _Spiderman._ He gives one final jab at the worst of the swelling as punishment. Seunghyun yanks his hand away, cradling it with his good hand, trying to protect himself. Jiyong dumps the defrosting peas on the swelling.  
  
'Ice it'.  
  
'Are you _sure_? I'm not sure I trust you after all the ---' Seunghyun pantomimes the _jabbing._  
  
Jiyong smiles and punches the bandaged hand. Seunghyun groans and half-swears before cutting himself off mid-way.  
  
_'Ice it,_ ' Jiyong repeats, 'and it serves you right, punching a wall. What are you, a moron?'

'Guess so'.

Seunghyun plays with the edges of his bandage and fiddles with the knot around his wrist. Jiyong watches his fingers, long and slender, fidgeting here and there. The scar on Seunghyun's good hand is visible, faded to a dull pink and Jiyong remembers what it was like to get that message. In the midst of promoting, Seunghyun told him he needed _surgery_. He was in pain for weeks. Jiyong always wondered how such a small mark could hurt so bad. Little things had a lot of power.

Their eyes meet again and Jiyong looks away, embarrassed.

 _'Ibuprofen'._  
  
'What?'  
  
'I should get you some ibuprofen,' he says, standing suddenly. 'It will help the swelling. Maybe. _I don't really know'_. Seunghyun smiles and Jiyong shrugs. 'It can't hurt'.  
  
'Sure'.  
  
Jiyong reaches the door but hesitates. When he looks back, Seunghyun isn't looking his way. His eyes are on his bandaged hand, his fingers pulling at the edges. It all seems so normal but it's not.

'I wish I could figure you out,' Jiyong says quietly. ‘I wish I had all the answers you won't give me. It's confusing, you know? In moments like this, you seem like yourself. It's easy to talk to you. Even after everything, I can sit here and miss you. Other times, you seem like a different person. Someone I don't know at all'.

Their eyes meet but Seunghyun doesn't answer.  
  
'I just miss you,' Jiyong says earnestly. 'I miss talking to you. I miss being in the same room as you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss that feeling of really _knowing_ someone, like no matter what happens there's _one_ person who will always be there, who will never change. Do you know what I'm talking about?' Jiyong asks. 'Do you miss me? Do you miss _talking_ to me?'

Seunghyun fidgets but says nothing and Jiyong wonders what his ideal answer would be. Would his life be easier if Seunghyun said yes or no?  
  
'I miss talking to you about my day,' Jiyong says, unable to stop himself. 'I miss the small talk and comfortable silences. I miss hearing about your dreams. I miss begging you to _stop_ telling me about your dreams. I miss the jokes you tell over and over again until they're dead and buried. I miss your laugh. I miss the pauses when you speak and the way you're careful with your words. I miss the way you would cry over little things. I just miss you,' Jiyong says. 'Even now, hearing what you did when you were gone and still having no answers, I miss you. I miss you so much and I _hate_ it'.

That's _all_ he knows. He hates it; This suffocating feeling made up of missed opportunities and paths not taken.

'Don't you feel that way too?'  
  
Seunghyun laughs but it's more of a sob and for a moment they have a kind of symbiosis. An unspoken acknowledgement of mutual dependency and failures shared. A joint history of a million moments and a similar wish that things had been different somehow. Seunghyun looks as though he'll speak but ultimately doesn't and Jiyong isn't surprised. It doesn't change what he said. He smiles and leaves, his question unanswered.

He moves to the kitchen, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each step. There are dirty shoe prints on the ground, two pairs. _His and mine_. He pulls a pack of painkillers from the cupboard, swallows one dry and finds a cup for Seunghyun. They are where they always are. Jiyong pulls out Seunghyun's favourite glass, one taller than all the rest.

 _'I loved you and I still love you,_ ' he said.

_'Three people, once each'._

Did you fuck anybody?  
  
_Yes._

Jiyong thinks about all of it.

Hands flat on the counter, he watches the water in the glass ripple and quake until the surface stills and he thinks about all of it. He thinks about Seunghyun's hands in his hair, his fingers against his back and his gentle voice in his ear. He thinks about the way Seunghyun put him to bed, the way he closed the blinds and wiped the sweat from his face and said, ' _You'll feel better soon. I'll be here'._ Jiyong thinks about the way that made him feel. He thinks about Seunghyun's crossed ankles on the bed and his shy smiles, he thinks about the stories that made him laugh. He thinks about Seunghyun's unreadable glances.  
  
Jiyong thinks about Seunghyun's lips and the way they curved when he said _yes,_ I fucked people, _yes_ , I let somebody fuck me, _yes._ Jiyong thinks about the way Seunghyun punched the wall. He thinks about the way Seunghyun grabbed him and said, _'listen to me, you don't understand'_. He thinks about the way he said, ' _I love you'_. Jiyong thinks about the way he felt when Seunghyun left him and he thinks that felt a lot like hearing him say, _'you were the million moments that mattered_ '.

He doesn't feel well.  
  
Across town there's a man who likes him. A man who wakes up every morning and tries to be quiet. A man who knows where Jiyong likes to eat, who brings food home from his favourite places for breakfasts in bed. A man who smiles at his jokes and listens to his complaints. A man who answers his calls and is never late. A man who makes Jiyong happy when he's sad. A man who makes him feel warm and loved and necessary.

Jiyong stares at the water on the bench and thinks about Hyeong-bae leaving painkillers beside the bed with a post-it saying, _'don't die'_. Jiyong smiles and covers his face, trying not to let the guilt eat him up inside; the guilt of standing in someone else's bathroom saying, ' _I miss you, I really fucking miss you'_.

That's bad, isn't it?  
  
He should go to Seunghyun and demand answers. _What do you think is going to happen now? Why did you tell me you love me? What happens next? What was your plan?_

 _We ignore each other,_ he thinks, knowingly. _That's the plan. We pretend none of this ever happened. He said those things by accident. He wasn't supposed to tell me._

Jiyong carries the glass and drugs back up the hall, stopping outside the bathroom door at the sound of Seunghyun's voice. He is talking quietly, muffled words so quiet Jiyong almost can't hear them. He's on the phone. Jiyong hears only the occasional words strung together, fragments of sentences that all sound alike, defensive and frustrated. ' _I told you ---- because --- stop --- stop calling me'_. When the call ends abruptly, Jiyong hears a loud bang and a rattle that makes him jump. Water spills from the glass over his wrist and fingers.

When he turns the corner, Seunghyun is where he was minutes before with his hands balled into fists. His good hand is clenched so tightly his knuckles have gone white. Jiyong can't see the other hand but he can guess.

He puts the glass on the counter and takes Seunghyun's bandaged hand, gently loosening his fingers.  
  
'Don't _do_ that. Do you want your hand to balloon up? Be careful'.  
  
Jiyong turns and sits on the edge of the bath, noticing Seunghyun's phone face-down in the centre. He must have thrown it in. Seunghyun doesn't answer Jiyong's admonishment but he unclenches his hands. Jiyong tries not to be irritated.

'Who was that? Is everything okay?'  
  
'My sister,' Seunghyun answers dismissively. 'Everything's fine'.  
  
Jiyong adopts a gentler tone.  
  
'Are you sure? It didn't sound like ---'  
  
'Everything is _fine_ ,' Seunghyun answers. 'She wants me to go down, I don't want to, end of story. It's fine'.  
  
'Go down where?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't snap at him this time, he's just dismissive and blithe. He looks around the room to prove how unimportant his words are.  
  
'The hospital'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach turns.  
  
'The hospital? To see your grandmother? _Has something happened?_ '  
  
'She's still _dying_ ,' Seunghyun answers.

Jiyong is embarrassed but a wave of guilt washes over him soon after. Something heavy and painful makes a home in the pit of his gut. _She's still dying_. He actually forgot, in the midst of their talking and all the memories it brought up, all the new and old feelings alike. He forgot.

'I'm sorry,' Jiyong says suddenly. 'I'm sorry for dumping all this shit on you. All the things I asked you, all the things I said. All this personal stuff? I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry. You have bigger things to worry about right now. I must be the last thing on your mind'.  
  
Seunghyun leans forward, his hands clasped together.

'You are never the last thing on my mind'.  
  
Their eyes meet and a small smile passes between them. Jiyong mouths another apology and Seunghyun smiles shyly at the situation.

'Probably not the best time for this, huh?' Jiyong asks, gesturing between them once more.  
  
Seunghyun shakes his head, wiping a tear from his cheek. Jiyong didn't notice until now. It must have been the call. His sister. The hospital. His grandmother. It was selfish to come here and stir things up. He has no idea what's going on right now. He has no idea what Seunghyun's week has been like. What's going on between them can wait.

'No, probably not'.

Jiyong smiles tenderly and smooths his thumb over Seunghyun's cheek, wiping a tear from his face. Seunghyun leans into his touch. It's familiar and automatic, fifteen years of habit ingrained.

 _We're family,_ Jiyong tells himself. _We're not lovers, we're not partners, we're not friends --- but we're still family so this is okay. It's okay that I do this. Just for the moment. Just for five minutes, I can do this. A temporary ceasefire. Armistice._

When Jiyong rises, 'I guess I should get going,' Seunghyun follows without a word. He trails Jiyong's steps in silence.

 

  
  
* * *

 

 

 

His phone is M.I.A. He can't remember where he left it. He doesn't want to turn up couch cushions and move furniture while Seunghyun is on the verge of tears so he gives up the search pretty fast. Maybe it's in the car. If not, he'll come back some other time for it.

In the living room he turns to say his goodbyes but Seunghyun speaks before he can open his mouth.

'You know, when I was in Japan,' he says. 'I heard this saying a few times. It was something like, _'the universe always gives you two choices, the one you should take, and the one you do'._

'And what does that mean?' Jiyong asks.

Seunghyun holds out his good hand and Jiyong takes it without thinking. Their fingers intertwine like old friends.

'It means I'm glad you're going home now'.

He gives Jiyong's fingers a squeeze then releases him.

Jiyong tells himself it was better to come than not to come. It was better to hear Seunghyun's words than not hear them. It was better to vent his emotions than keep them inside. He tells himself what he needs to then throws caution to the wind. He wraps his arms around Seunghyun and squeezes him tightly.  
  
'I'm sorry about your grandmother. I really am. If anything happens, if you need anything or someone to talk to, I’m around. Know that everything between us can be put aside for this. Okay? I want you to be okay. I want your family to be okay'.

Seunghyun hugs him back and kisses the top of his head the way he used to. The way his parents did when he was small, the way his grandparents have since forever and always and Jiyong's strangely grateful for that. He withdraws from the hug.  
  
He'll go home and greet his dog and look Hyeong-bae in the eye and pretend none of this happened because nothing _did_ happen, but even if it did _in a small way_ _,_ it's complicated.

Seunghyun slides a hand around the back of Jiyong's neck with his good hand. His thumb moves over Jiyong's cheek and he presses their foreheads together.

'To answer your earlier question, yes, I miss you,' Seunghyun whispers. 'I miss talking to you. I miss you hanging around. I miss your energy and your ideas and your smile. I miss your passion. I miss feeling like someone really knows me. I miss someone being on my side. You were all those things. I’m grateful’.  
  
Jiyong cups Seunghyun's cheek, his forehead furrowed.

'What does that mean?'

Seunghyun closes his eyes. Jiyong smells his shampoo with lavender and what's underneath it. That other scent that's nothing but Seunghyun. The smell of him in the mornings and late at night. The smell of him freshly showered and not having showered for days. _His_ smell.

'I don't know if I should like you or hate you,' Jiyong says quietly.

'Don't hate me,' Seunghyun answers. 'Don't like me, but don't hate me'.

This quiet declaration breaks Jiyong’s heart, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Seunghyun kisses him. Without warning, he kisses him—and the taste of Seunghyun’s lips brings back for Jiyong, so many memories and emotions. It brings comfort and anger and desire and guilt. It causes a torrent of unexpected feelings, and it’s nice. Just this once, _just for this one moment_ , it is nice to kiss him back.  
  
Between two gentle kisses Jiyong manages to say, 'I don't think I should kiss you,' trying to remember all the reasons he can't do this. All the reasons he doesn't want to. Hyeong-bae. Loyalty. Seunghyun’s past betrayals. His pain.  
  
Seunghyun brings him back with purposeful fingers and kisses him in answer.  
  
‘You’re right’.  
  
It's just a kiss.  
  
_It's just a kiss._  
  
Jiyong plants a hand on Seunghyun's chest, as much out of habit as anything else. His fingers grip the fabric and he feels something there, something caught up beneath his palm. Something cold and sharp. He breaks the kiss and pulls up Seunghyun's shirt, white cotton bunched up around his ribs and there it is. The brown leather cord, the necklace he noticed outside. On its end is a key _._  
  
'That's my key,' Jiyong says, stunned.  
  
Seunghyun pushes down his shirt and answers, ' _A_ key,' emphasising _A_. One key, _a_ key, _any key._ One of millions.  
  
‘No,' Jiyong says. 'That's my key. That's the key I gave back to you, the key I left under your door'.  
  
Seunghyun's fingertips linger on Jiyong's lower back.  
  
'I guess it's _my_ key then'.  
  
Jiyong wonders, if he steps out of reach will Seunghyun follow him? Does he want him to?  
  
Their lips meet again, Seunghyun's warm and soft, passionate but restrained. He kept the ke _y_. _His_ key. For all the yelling and crying and unasked and unanswered questions, for all their long silences, Seunghyun kept his key. Why?  
  
'What do you _want?'_ Jiyong asks, pulling away from Seunghyun's lips, from his warm, gentle fingers. His heart pounds in his chest. He suddenly needs to know. Right time or not, he needs to know. There's a stone in his throat and his voice comes out rough and shaky. He has butterflies in his stomach but he feels them everywhere. 'What do you _want?_ You love me? Fine. What do you want from me? What do you want to happen here?’  
  
_Between us._  
  
It's the age-old question, _where do you see yourself in five years-time?_ Is this relationship going to work? Do you want the same things? Only this time, five years is an impossible length of time. All that seems to matter is the next five minutes. _Where do you see yourself in five minutes?_  
  
Seunghyun answers with his lips to Jiyong's ear.  
  
'I want you to go home to your girlfriend. I want you to have a nice happy life with her. I want you to leave me alone. I want to be alone'.  
  
He presses his forehead against Jiyong's, their noses side by side. Jiyong can feel his uneven breathing. He can feel the warmth of it on his skin.  
  
‘It doesn’t seem like you want to be alone'.  
  
Even with his eyes closed, Jiyong can feel Seunghyun's smile. He feels Seunghyun's fingers on the small of his back. It sends a familiar shiver up his spine.  
  
He feels pre-emptive guilt.  
  
Jiyong thinks about Hyeong-bae, waiting for him at home. Like the cartoons he watched when he was small, Jiyong imagines a pocket-sized version perched on his shoulder, reminding him where he is and what he's doing. Hyeong-bae, the voice of reason, reminds him of his obligations and loyalties. _Go home_. On the other side is Seunghyun, life-sized and real saying _I want to be alone_ , his fingers snaking under the back of Jiyong’s shirt.  
  
They fight it out inside his head; where he should be and where he is. What he should do and what he will. Jiyong understands unconsciously Seunghyun's words, _'the universe gives you two choices, the one you should take and the one you do'_.  
  
He watches one of the choices break away, helpless to call it back.  
  
Seunghyun left him. He slept with other people. He came back different. Jiyong knows they can't ever be what they were. He knows he shouldn't be here and that doing this, allowing even one more second of this will lead only to trouble. He knows someone is waiting for him at home, someone who hours ago was _everything_ he ever wanted. He also knows Seunghyun's hands are on his skin, making his face flush and his fingers ache. He knows Seunghyun's voice is in his ear and his soft lips are against his skin. He knows that just for this moment, he _wants_ this. All pain aside, he wants what he has lost.  
  
He wants the past. He wants Seunghyun. He wants petty fights and long torturous kisses. He wants pyjama Tuesdays and Spiderman band-aids. He wants to sit on a balcony with marks on the walls.  
  
'Jiyong,' Seunghyun whispers, knowing what's obvious to them both. The bad decisions they are about to make. 'Please go home'.  
  
When their lips meet again, Jiyong follows instinctively. He kisses Seunghyun back, senseless of where. He kisses his cheek, his neck, his collarbone. His hands move up Seunghyun's sides and around his back. When Seunghyun mirrors his movements, a flurry of nervous energy, Jiyong tells himself he's not doing anything wrong.  
  
It's just a kiss, and _besides---_  
  
'I'll go,' he whispers between each kiss. 'I'm going'.  
  
_I'll go home._  
  
Then Seunghyun's hands are around his lower back, his fingers dug in tightly.  
  
_I'm going._  
  
He holds on tight as Seunghyun hauls him off the ground. He wraps his legs around Seunghyun's waist and kisses him again.  
  
Seunghyun makes a sound of frustration, something primal from way down deep. He doesn't want to do this but he's moving. Not towards the door but down the hall and Jiyong knows where they're going and he doesn't have the heart to say no. He doesn't want to.  
  
As Seunghyun knocks the bedroom door open with his knee, Jiyong kisses the side of his face and whispers in his ear, _'This is a one-time thing, just this once ---_ ' never to be repeated. Seunghyun drops him on the bed and repeats his words without looking him in the eye. He knows.  
  
The sheets are cool against Jiyong's skin, his arms and lower back bare where his t-shirt has ridden up. He holds his legs up, one at a time and Seunghyun pulls off his shoes and socks, throwing them in the corner.  
  
There's a nagging voice in the back of his head, one last fleeting show of conscience and guilt but Seunghyun sinks down on the bed, his knees make the mattress sag and Jiyong doesn't _care_ about what's right and wrong. He cares about Seunghyun on his knees, pulling his shirt up over his head. The key follows moments after, thrown on the bedside table and Jiyong is glad. He doesn't want this to be a romantic lovelorn thing. He wants this to be something else. Basic and fundamental and human. Simple need.  
  
Seunghyun sinks down and kisses him, deep and passionate and slow. His fingers flit here and there, gentle but sure, seeking out all the parts of Jiyong he used to know. The memories come back and Jiyong tries to get closer. He wants to feel more of him. He runs his hands over Seunghyun's body, over his pecs and down his sides, across his stomach. He explores every visible inch of him like a tentative child exploring something new.  
  
'No tattoos?' he breathes into Seunghyun's neck. 'No butterfly tattoo on your lower back?'  
  
Seunghyun bunches Jiyong's shirt up under his armpits and runs his fingertips over his skin.  
  
'No. What about you?'  
  
Jiyong hooks a leg around his thigh and pulls him closer.  
  
'Just a _small_ butterfly'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles into his kiss and Jiyong runs fingers through Seunghyun's growing hair, through the fuzz two centimetres long. He'll have his normal hair again in no time and a part of Jiyong wonders if he'll ever get to do this again. His fingers rest on the base of Seunghyun's neck as he breaks the kiss. Their eyes meet and Jiyong asks him why he shaved his head.  
  
'I wasn't myself'.  
  
Jiyong smooths his thumb over Seunghyun's hip and makes sure his legs are wrapped around him like a cage, so he can't get out, not so easily.  
  
'Is that why you did all the things that you did? You weren't yourself?'  
  
'Something like that'.  
  
A look of pain surfaces on Seunghyun's face but it's gone in an instant.  
  
Jiyong's hands dip down beneath the waistband of Seunghyun's pants and he asks the last uncomfortable question of the day.  
  
'Those people you were with. Were you --- _safe?_ '  
  
Seunghyun brushes hair from Jiyong's face and answers quietly, 'Yeah, of course'.  
  
'Alright'.  
  
Jiyong tugs down Seunghyun's pants a few inches and slips his hand inside his briefs. He takes Seunghyun's cock in hand and a shaky exhale passes between them, a brief moment of knowing, _we can't go back_. Something in Jiyong aches at the feel of him, the warmth and weight of him in his hand. He hasn't touched him in a long time.  
  
Things aren't very gentle or romantic after that.  
  
Jiyong makes a humiliating sound when Seunghyun touches him back, when his fingers wrap around his cock and his briefs are shoved down. With their pants around their thighs, they end up on their sides, legs intertwined, jerking each other off between kisses, some finding lips and others not, some finding neck or jaw or that soft place below the ear. Jiyong whispers _'Seunghyun,'_ between hurried breaths and a simple noise when he forgets.  
  
It's been such a long time, he tries to remember what Seunghyun likes. It doesn't take very long. A few careful strokes and experiments and he knows _exactly_ what Seunghyun likes, what makes him squirm and keen and beg for mercy and Jiyong does it all because he wants to. Because it's easy. Because he remembers.  
  
Seunghyun pushes into Jiyong's hand and grabs at his thigh, digging his fingers in so hard, Jiyong worries faintly if he might leave a mark. Seunghyun is possessive and needy but it's not enough. He makes a sound of frustration and clutches a handful of Jiyong's pants before yanking them down below his knees. He throws them off the bed until Jiyong is lying there naked from the waist down, eyes wide at the spontaneity of Seunghyun's actions.  
  
He remembers what it's like to be with Seunghyun, to really _be_ with him but it's different now. It's nothing like he remembers but maybe time does that. It distorts things. The feel of Seunghyun now, the way he's looking at him? It's both less and more than he remembered.  
  
Seunghyun moves between his legs. He nestles between his knees and Jiyong watches, mouth agape, as Seunghyun kisses the inside of his calf and thigh. It tickles and he tries not to move. Seunghyun's fingers are rough but his kisses are gentle and the admixture of the two makes Jiyong's cock ache and his cheeks flush from embarrassment and need.  
  
Seunghyun kisses the tattoos above his belly button, one for each and then kisses down, _one, two, three_ until his fingers brush past dark hair to what's below. He takes Jiyong in his mouth without warning and the _warmth_ of him, the feel of his tongue against his flushed cock --- Jiyong's hips push off the bed and Seunghyun brings a hand down to keep him still. His grip is tight and forceful and with each movement, each flick of the tongue, each suck and blow, each teasing sleight of careful fingers – Seunghyun makes him squirm.  
  
He pushes Jiyong's shirt back up around his armpits. He tries to take it off but Jiyong stops him.  
  
'Leave it on'.  
  
Seunghyun sits up and wipes the hair from Jiyong's face, one small sweet gesture amidst all their poor decisions.  
  
'Why?'  
  
He almost sounds concerned and Jiyong laughs, pulling him down for a kiss. He can taste himself and the kiss doesn't last. He whispers in Seunghyun's ear, 'Because, I fucking _stink'._  
  
They laugh quietly.  
  
Seunghyun kisses his collarbone and shoulder and the inside of his elbow.  
  
It's sweet.  
  
'I don't care,' Seunghyun says, but he leaves the t-shirt on. Jiyong smooths it down over his stomach and sits up, pushing Seunghyun to the side so he can return the favour. He leaves Seunghyun's pants caught around his thighs and moves into place. Seunghyun leans back against the headboard and watches with lips parted, his chest rising and falling, half out of breath. Jiyong makes a little show of pulling the elastic from his hair. He throws it on the side-table and runs his fingers through his hair.  
  
'Why did you grow your hair out?'  
  
Jiyong curls up at his side and leans down. He tucks his hair behind his ear, letting a few strands catch on Seunghyun's heated skin.  
  
'Just lazy, I guess'. He kisses the head of Seunghyun's cock and says, 'Why not?'  
  
He takes Seunghyun's length in his mouth and holds the base with his fingers, playing with him the way he likes, the way he remembers. It takes only moments. Seunghyun slides his fingers into his hair and pulls tight, yanking enough to hurt a little.  
  
Over the years they blew each other every which way but Seunghyun got a kick out of pulling Jiyong's hair, of laying a hand on his head and guiding him down. It took a little while but Jiyong grew fond of it too. He got a kick out of being submissive sometimes. It's familiar and satisfying and in some strange way it makes Jiyong feel alright about the world. It's a show of trust and letting go. It makes him feel good.  
  
Jiyong gives him the invitation and Seunghyun takes it. He grips Jiyong's hair tightly in his fist and holds him where he wants him. He rocks up into Jiyong's mouth, controlling everything, the pace and how deep and once or twice he _goes_ deep until Jiyong almost can't take it but Seunghyun knows him, even after all this time, he knows when to stop. He knows where the limits are.  
  
Jiyong digs his fingers into Seunghyun's thigh and kisses the fingernail marks left behind when he lets him go.  
  
There's a brief moment between them, one fleeting glance then they both know, _this is it_.  
  
Jiyong crawls up Seunghyun's body and straddles him, perched in his lap.  
  
'Do you have ---'  
  
Seunghyun takes his lips in answer, cutting him off. He uses the distraction to roll them. Jiyong lands on his back and wipes the sweat from his face.  
  
Seunghyun leans over the edge of the bed and disappears into a drawer, hands rifling out of sight. Jiyong lies beneath him and pulls a strand of hair from his lips. He combs his hair with his fingers.  
  
When Seunghyun dips back there's a condom already between his teeth. This is no drawn out foreplay, no slow build-up, no sweet love making after a long absence. That's not what this is.  
  
Seunghyun tugs his own pants down and pulls one leg free, leaving his pants bunched around his second ankle. He sits on his heels and drags Jiyong down by his calves until there's barely a foot between them.  
  
Jiyong covers his eyes with the back of his hand. He spreads his legs a little wider, hearing the flick of a cap and the sounds that come after. That brief glimmer of conscience from earlier resurfaces but only for a moment. It's too late to go back, in so many ways, it's too late.  
  
Seunghyun's fingers move over his ass, his fingers cool and slick and then he's pressing in past that tight ring of muscle, the way he used to with the same caution and the same light touch.  
  
Jiyong remembers.  
  
Seunghyun's movements still suddenly and there's a moment where he makes a sound --- a _sigh_ \--- and Jiyong doesn't want to open his eyes because a sinking feeling forms in his gut and he knows what's wrong. _I didn't think, I forgot, I forgot_ \--- then Seunghyun pushes through whatever he's feeling and moves on.  
  
Jiyong barely has the time to think up some apology, some explanation or excuse before Seunghyun's got the condom on and has his legs pushed back  
  
Jiyong grabs at the sheets and his head lifts off the pillow for the briefest moment, the briefest jolt of pain that's more surprise than anything else. Seunghyun's inside him in one drive forward and for a few short seconds Jiyong forgets to breathe, remembering what it's like with Seunghyun. Remembering why, once upon a time, it was so easy for him to believe they were preternaturally special.  
  
Seunghyun shatters the illusion of Jiyong's memory, his deep voice saying what Jiyong already knows.  
  
'You _lied_ to me'.  
  
It's true but also false. It wasn't a lie so much as withheld information. Seunghyun assumed and Jiyong didn't correct him.  
  
'I know'.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and for a brief moment looks genuinely heartbroken. Jiyong's lips part in surprise and he reaches out, his fingers wrapping around Seunghyun's wrist. As quick as all that, Seunghyun's got his face back on, his impenetrable mask of mystery. His voice comes out steady and sure.  
  
'There was never a girlfriend, was there?' he asks.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head in answer and makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. He didn't mean to lie but Seunghyun's hardly one to judge.  
  
'I didn't mean to lie,' Jiyong whispers. 'You assumed and I didn't correct you'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Does it matter?'  
  
Seunghyun drops down, still inside him. Jiyong flinches at the faint jolt of pain from the sudden movement and rests his hands on Seunghyun's waist. Seunghyun still smells of lavender, his short hair sticking out in all directions. His eyebrows look messy. Jiyong smooths over Seunghyun's brows with his thumb and drops his hands back to his waist as Seunghyun rolls his hips in two, three, _four_ slow languid thrusts.  
  
Jiyong bites his lip and Seunghyun speaks low into his neck, below his ear, 'It matters'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Seunghyun almost growls in answer and sits back on his heels, picking Jiyong's leg up beneath the knee. He presses down with his full weight and fucks Jiyong the way he wants to, rough and fast and possessive. His hands grip too tightly and Jiyong's hair pulls against the sheets.  
  
'This guy you've been seeing. When did he last fuck you?' Seunghyun asks, his fingernails digging into Jiyong's inner thigh. 'It hasn't been long. Today? Yesterday? Sometime this week? I can _tell_ '.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. He should have known, he didn't think. It would have been obvious the second Seunghyun touched him that it hasn't been a _year_ since he's been fucked _._  
  
'None of your business'.  
  
'It is though,' Seunghyun grunts, thrusting in hard, his fingers digging in to Jiyong's hips. 'You asked if I was safe,' he says between heavy breaths, 'Are you? With him?'  
  
Jiyong hits Seunghyun's chest in irritation.  
  
'Fucking _yes,'_ he breathes. 'I even make him pull out before he ---' Jiyong covers his face with both hands, a quiet groan slipping out as Seunghyun hits the right spot. He shouldn't be talking about this. He doesn't owe Seunghyun any explanations.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and slows down. He eases up. He makes his thrusts longer and gentler and pulls a few moves he knows Jiyong likes especially. They were together too long, too many times. There isn't a trick or angle or position that the two of them don't know. Minutes pass in silence and old routines emerge. _It's like riding a bike._  
  
Seunghyun uses each trick and when Jiyong is clutching at his arms for more, to go _faster_ and _harder_ and _just there, just like that_ \--- he apologises quietly between each exclamation.

Seunghyun pulls out before too long and Jiyong flinches. They catch an uncomfortable angle.  
  
'Tired?' he asks. 'Want me to top?'  
  
Seunghyun flops down on the bed beside him. He wipes the sweat from his forehead. 'It's been a while,' he explains. His face is pink, his chest glistening with sweat --- but Jiyong is sweating too. His T-shirt sticks to the skin around his middle. All the same, he sits up and throws a leg over Seunghyun's thighs.  
  
'You're just getting old'.  
  
'So are you'.  
  
Jiyong pulls a face and reaches for the lube. Seunghyun passes it to him but he lingers when Jiyong gets his fingers on it. He holds them in place.  
  
'You didn't need to say sorry'.  
  
Jiyong yanks the bottle free of his grip.  
  
'You made it seem like I did'.  
  
He avoids Seunghyun's gaze and does what he needs to do, taking Seunghyun's cock in hand behind him. He sinks down until he can feel the head against his tail-bone. He lines them up and sinks slowly down, feeling that familiar pressure filling him, that almost-burn.   
  
Seunghyun groans quietly, his hands gripping Jiyong's thighs.  
  
'You can date whoever you want,' he says.  
  
Jiyong moves slowly. He rolls his hips back and forth until he finds the right angle. He raises up a little then sinks down, rolling forward.  
  
'You're so kind,' he answers, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. 'I have your permission to date other people? Generous'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and groans at Jiyong's movements.  
  
'That's not what I meant'.  
  
Jiyong plants his palms on Seunghyun's stomach and rides him, slowly. It's the only way he can fuck in this position. Seunghyun takes one of Jiyong's hands and he lets him. Their fingers intertwine against his stomach.  
  
'Who is he?' Seunghyun asks, his breathing ragged, marked with sporadic grunts. 'How old? What does he look like?'  
  
Jiyong smiles and leans back to get a better angle.  
  
'Why?' he breathes. 'Are you afraid he's better looking than you?'  
  
'A little'.  
  
Jiyong laughs and Seunghyun smiles and for a brief moment he's happy. There's no guilt, no regrets, there's only one brief moment blooming in his chest and inescapable pleasure. It makes his heart ache.  
  
'You don't know him,' Jiyong says. 'He's 32. He's a bit taller than you I guess. More buff? He could probably kick your ass either way so don't come to my house, okay?'  
  
'You live together?'  
  
Jiyong stills and their eyes meet, their hands still intertwined.  
  
'Yeah, we live together'.  
  
'Does he know where you are?'  
  
Jiyong wipes the hair from his face with his free hand and exhales quietly.  
  
'No. He doesn't know anything about you'.  
  
Seunghyun grabs Jiyong's wrist and props himself up. They do an awkward dance and after a few uncertain moments, Jiyong finds himself on his stomach with Seunghyun behind him.  
  
'I thought you were tired?'  
  
'Second wind,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong gets up on all fours and Seunghyun moves up behind him, pushing in slow and gentle, though he doesn't need to. He kicks Jiyong's knees a little further apart and he fucks him the way they used to on certain occasions; while drunk in the early hours or angry or just having a bad hair day. It was easy this way, foolproof. Maybe Seunghyun just doesn't want to see his face any more.  
  
Jiyong is glad. Now that they've talked about him, Jiyong thinks of Hyeong-bae. How long has it been since he said he'd be home? He said two hours and that was a long time ago. If he went home this second, he'd be at least three hours late.  
  
How is he supposed to go home?  
  
Seunghyun's fingers wrap around his cock and Jiyong's startled by the sudden touch. He squeaks like a mouse and tries to cover the sound with something more masculine but his hand slips at the touch and he falls on his face. He stays with his cheek against the mattress. Seunghyun fits inside him like they were made for each other and this is the perfect angle, the only way to really feel him and how they fit together and for a few moments, thoughts of Hyeong-bae disappear.  
  
Jiyong moves back into Seunghyun's thrusts, meeting him in the middle. It's so easy and warm and familiar. Seunghyun's fingers tighten around his cock and Jiyong makes quiet sounds of pleasure. He wanted this. He stayed, he wanted this and he wants it now. He wants the heat and the feel of him, wants his fingers on his skin, his cock inside him, he wants Seunghyun's fucking voice in his ear. He _wants_ this.  
  
Seunghyun jerks him off, rough and fast. He's messy. He strokes without rhythm but as good as Seunghyun gets. It's nice --- it feels good.  
  
It doesn't last.  
  
Seunghyun's movements become stilted and sporadic, his breathing louder. Jiyong swats his hand away and replaces it with his own. They have to cum at the same time. He doesn't want to go first or last, he doesn't want the awkwardness, the crushing weight of reality descending on him alone.  
  
'Are you going to cum?' Jiyong breathes. 'Wait for me'.  
  
It's something he hasn't said in a long time. Something they haven't done _together_ in a long time.  
  
'I'm close'.  
  
Jiyong whispers a quiet _'okay'_ and buries his face in the sheets, jerking himself off, trying to stave off the heat rising in his face. His cock aches, he's so close. He can feel it building in the pit of his gut, feel himself tightening --- unravelling. Seunghyun knows to wait.  
  
'Okay,' Jiyong groans --- and the moment he has permission, Seunghyun grips his waist tightly, gives a few fast thrusts and _Jiyong's there_ \--- Jiyong's free hand grips the sheets so hard his knuckles go white. A quiet noise escapes him, muffled by the mattress and he cums. It rolls over him in a quick wave, a few blissful moments of pure happiness.  
  
He feels Seunghyun cum too, feels him tense inside him and his whole body sag moments later.  
  
Seunghyun pulls out quickly and Jiyong rolls gingerly to his side, giving a wide berth to the square of sheet that was beneath him. His hands and legs feel weak. His fingers are shaking.  
  
It's over.  
  
He did it.  
  
Sweating and out of breath, he doesn't know how he feels. He doesn't know what kind of _person_ he is.  
  
Seunghyun pushes the sheet down to the end of the bed and heads for the ensuite, the mattress bouncing at the loss of his weight. Jiyong watches him go. Seunghyun throws the condom in the bin and kicks the door shut behind him.  
  
Jiyong stares at the bathroom door and doesn't feel much of anything. The crushing guilt doesn't descend. He doesn't feel more or less in love with Seunghyun than he did an hour ago. He feels tired and sore, his cock aching between his legs. There are sore spots around his waist where Seunghyun's fingers dug into him.

He feels physical stuff and that seems to fill in the gaps for what he _should_ be feeling. There are so many things wrong with what he's just done, he knows that. Intellectually he knows. There's so much unresolved he isn't sure what he's meant to do.

His voice of reason is absent so he stays where he is, uncertain. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, wondering where all his emotions went, if they retreated so far inside him he just can't feel them anymore. If he did that to protect himself.

When Seunghyun comes out of the bathroom, he pulls some pants out of his cupboard and slips them on, throwing Jiyong a second pair.

'You can stay if you want,' he says, different to the way he was when they were fucking. Absent.  Jiyong knows how he feels. Maybe Seunghyun feels empty too. Maybe this feeling is something they've shared. 'You can take a shower and I can wash your clothes. Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like ----'  
  
'Sex,' Jiyong fills in the blank.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Jiyong accepts the invitation because he knows he shouldn't go home. Not now. Not feeling this way. He can't go home smelling like sweat and sex. He can't go home without showering. He can't go home until he knows how he feels, until he knows what he's going to do and say.

So, Seunghyun loans him some clothes, washes his old ones and hours later, they're both in bed again, not fucking or talking or even looking each other in the eye. Just sleeping, on opposite sides of the bed, careful not to touch one another or make a sound.

Jiyong lays in the dark and counts the minutes, thinking to himself, _If I go home right this second, I'll only be ten hours late._

 _Eleven._  
  
_Twelve._

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

   
  


**TWO YEARS AGO**   
  


 

Of all people, he's with his mother when he sees them on the shelf, tagging along behind her while she darts in and out of every shop in Seoul in search of a wedding gift better than all others _._ He's been exposed suddenly to a whole world of moms trying to out-do other moms.

He doesn't really get it but he's happy to spend a day with her, even if he is being dragged from one place to another like a dog on a leash. The daughter of a family friend is getting married and though Jiyong only met her twice and his mother barely speaks to them anymore, it's _imperative_ the newlyweds get the best gift possible.

It's in a homewares store on the very edge of Seoul that Jiyong finds them on the shelf, or rather they find him. While his mother looks at dinner sets, choosing white vs off-white, patterned vs unpatterned, Jiyong sees a young girl watching him from the corner. She is trying to decipher whether or not he's someone famous or important. To approach or not to approach.

Trying to disappear before she makes her decision, he falls into a shelf of manchester. A set of burgundy sheets cushions the elbow he sent sprawling into the display. When he's finished blushing and navigating twenty more displays to get out of sight, he finds the burgundy sheets still in his hand. King size, 1000TC bamboo sheets --- which is supposed to mean something to him but truly doesn't. What means something to him is the colour. They remind him of Seunghyun.

Hiding behind a tower of blenders and food processors, he remembers Seunghyun's unending complaints of shitty sleep and bad dreams, all of which being ultimately blamed on the colour of his _sheets._ Jiyong laughed the first few times but eventually copped to the reality that Seunghyun was serious. _Blue_ sheets made him feel depressed, _white_ made him feel like a child and _brown_ , too much of an adult. It was actually possible to judge his mood or how well he would sleep by the colour of the sheets on his bed. _Grey_ gave him nightmares and _purple_ kept him awake.

For all the time they had been together Jiyong had never seen Burgundy sheets on the bed so when his mother finally finds him, gaudy gold-trimmed dinner set in hand, they go to the counter together.

On the car ride home, she talks about weddings, predictably. It's in the air. This is the third wedding in as many months he has had to hear about, each inevitably leading to _this_ conversation.  
  
'Are you seeing anyone?'  
  
'Nope'.  
  
Which leads, as always, to the well-meant lamentations of a mother starting to worry that her 25 year old son hasn't had a girlfriend in a few years.

_'You're so young but you have so much love to give, I just want you to find a nice girl'._

He gives her the usual speech about work and having so little free time and brings up the phantom girl which always makes her happy. 'There is one girl I know, I'm kind of interested but I don't know---' which leads as always to her listing his good qualities, _you should ask her out,_ then, _if she doesn't like you, she's an idiot._

It's an old record at this point but replaying it seems to placate her fears that he'll end up a bachelor at 60 with no-one to talk to but birds in a park.  
  
When he finally gets to Seunghyun's place an hour later, he is half-way to exhausted having to remember all the phantom girls he's been interested in and the long list of reasons things never seemed to work out.

Home sweet second home.

He lets himself in and throws the sheets on the counter where Seunghyun is making coffee. He looks up briefly but stays in the coffee making zone, because _I like my coffee a certain way,_ which involves stirring it however many times and measuring each spoonful with careful accuracy.

'What are those?' he asks, nodding at the bag.

Jiyong explains, 'because you're a wuss and you can't sleep on white sheets or brown sheets or blue sheets or black sheets, I thought you could try these on for size'.

Seunghyun doesn't pause in his coffee-making meditations but smiles and says, 'that was very selfless of you'.

Jiyong stretches his arms over the counter-top, 'what can I say? _I'm full of love'._

'You're full of something'.

'Mom was talking about weddings on the way back,' he explains. ‘ _I just want you to find a nice girl._ The usual. I think she wants to marry me off'.

Seunghyun offers a sympathetic glance and moves his half-made coffee aside, leaning over the counter to meet Jiyong half way. He's borne the brunt of every post-mom conversation about weddings and _the future_. He must be sick of it by now.

'She just wants you to be happy'.  
  
'I know,' Jiyong shrugs. 'It doesn't bother me'.  
  
He slides his phone and keys across the counter.

'Honestly, I wonder sometimes if she'd even care if I brought you home, as long as I brought _someone_ home'.  
  
'She would care'.  
  
Seunghyun takes his hand like the sometimes-mother he is and gives a comforting little squeeze that's unnecessary but nice all the same.

'Maybe'.

Jiyong wonders though, sometimes.

His mother is friendly with the owner of the grocery store around the corner from her building. If his sister is to be believed, 'Mr Shin' of ' _Shin's grocery'_ is gay and that's public knowledge more than speculation.

Hell, he's watched his mother laugh at Hong Seok Cheon on a variety show until tears rolled down her face. Neither of which are exactly indications of whether she'd flip out if she knew about Seunghyun but Jiyong doesn't have much to go on unless he straight out asks her and he isn't going to do that.

He thinks his mother would understand his choices, eventually. He has to believe that.

Maybe Seunghyun's pessimistic view is right or maybe it isn't. Jiyong thinks Seunghyun's view is tainted by his own experiences. Seunghyun confided once, that he thought his mom might know about him. She might have guessed where his inclinations currently lay. He said he could see it in her face sometimes and in the way she changed the subject when his sister asked about his love life, as if she was afraid he might suddenly tell the truth.  
  
He also said his mother would never talk about it either way. She loved him and always would but she would gloss over gayness. She would pick and choose which parts of him she acknowledged. He could bring a man home for dinner, say _'this is my boyfriend and I love him,_ ' and still, she would ask his nice _friend_ if he had a girlfriend.

Jiyong isn't sure what he'd rather. It must be comforting to know that worst-case-scenario you were still welcome at home, your mother would still kiss you and hug you and tell you she loves you. On the other hand, you wouldn't ever feel right. You wouldn't feel whole. He feels bad for Seunghyun sometimes when he thinks about it. He likes not knowing what his own parents would think. It's easier to be positive that way.

He pulls Seunghyun by the hand until he's close enough to kiss and lays one on him. He kisses him because he can't _not_. He kisses him because he loves him and he tells him so when they pull apart. It's true, whether their mothers know or not.

'Hey, I love you'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and says it back and kisses the back of Jiyong's hand before going back to his coffee, stirring the spoon a certain way, a certain number of times--- but he stops suddenly and pours his coffee down the sink.

When he looks back over he has a look on his face that makes Jiyong uncomfortable. The sort of look that's succeeded by an unpleasant talk. Either way, he moves dolefully around the counter until they're face to face.

Seunghyun sits on the bar stool closest and pulls Jiyong in between his legs. Even standing, with Seunghyun sitting theyare almost eye-to eye.

'Can we talk for a minute?'

'I guess so'.  
  
Seunghyun sees the look on his face and offers a bemused smile to try and reassure him this conversation isn't _that_ conversation. This isn't the, _'I need to talk'_ that ends in heartbreak. Jiyong knows either way. He has been on the end of that conversation enough times to know he won't hear it from Seunghyun. Still, the similarities make him uneasy.

'We've been doing this for a while,' Seunghyun says.

'Doing what?'  
  
He gestures between them and says, 'Us'.

'Oh'.  
  
'But we've never really talked about what this is'.

Jiyong's eyebrows rise despite himself.  
  
'I suppose not'.

That's true. They haven't really talked about what they are. They're dating but they're not dating. They're together but undefined. It has been complicated (or maybe uncomplicated). Things have just happened.

'So, there's some things I want to say, okay?' Seunghyun scrunches up his nose and looks painfully young. 'I don't know if it will make much sense but bear with me'.

'Okay?'  
  
Seunghyun holds both of Jiyong's hands. They're so close Jiyong can see every moment of indecision in his eyes, every flash of embarrassment, every lost word.

'I love you,' Seunghyun says. 'And this thing, whatever it is; I mean we're _dating_ though we've never explicitly said so--'  
  
'We're definitely dating,' Jiyong cuts in. 'If that helps'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles.  
  
'Thank-you. _Yes_ \--- I love that we're dating. I like how easy this is. When we fight, I like you. When you're not around, I like you. When you disagree with me, I like you. There hasn't been a second in the last few years that I haven't loved you and I'm really ---' Seunghyun's forehead furrows and he pauses, trying to find the words to express himself --- ' _grateful,'_ he says after a time, 'that this is what we are. That the world didn't end when we decided to try this. I can't imagine waking up one day and not wanting this'.

Jiyong looks at his feet for a moment, face growing hotter. Despite how many years they have been on-and-off together or the months they have openly been saying, _'I love you,'_ \--- to hear these things still puts a flush in his cheeks and maybe that's how he knows he means it when he says, _I love you_ back.

When girls said these things in the past, he felt invincible and thought, _'Wow, what a perfect relationship this is,_ ' but he never felt anything so strongly as with Seunghyun. The same words out of Seunghyun's mouth don't make him feel nice, they wreck him. He feels pulled apart. Seunghyun surprises him sometimes, with this kind of vulnerability. In fleeting moments of confidence, words come easily to him. He transforms.

Jiyong moves his hands to Seunghyun's shoulders, his thumbs following the seam of his shirt.  
  
'Why are you saying all this?' he asks. 'I know I'm amazing. What's going on?'

Seunghyun smiles and looks away for the briefest moment.

'I see you look at women sometimes,' he says. 'I see that look on your face, like that's what you want. You talk about family sometimes too, about your future wife and your future kids and you say things like, _'when I'm a dad,'_ and I know that's what you want. Maybe not today or this year or in the next five but _eventually_ that's what you want'.

Jiyong pulls his hands from Seunghyun's shoulders and takes a small step back, surprised.  
  
'Oh --- I guess that's true'.

He forgets sometimes that time is linear.

He sometimes thinks of this life he has with Seunghyun as being static in the grand scheme of things--- that these years they're spending together are _outside_ of time. He doesn't think about the fact that every day he spends with Seunghyun is one less day he'll spend with the phantom family of his dreams. What he wants now and what he wants in the future are always omnipresent, they overlap. As if _Seunghyun_ and _Family_ are two parallel lives that he can choose from and come back to whenever he wants. As if he can have them both. As if when he's finished with the life he's living now, he'll get a second chance and the second time around he can choose family.

'Seunghyun, I don't---'  
  
Seunghyun pulls Jiyong in again and squeezes his hands, urging him to listen.  
  
'It's fine, just --- you keep telling me about these things your mom has said to you about settling down and finding a nice girl and sometimes you talk about that as if all she has to do is wait. She'll get what she wants from you eventually. Other times you talk about that as if it won't _ever_ happen, as if you're never going to find a girl or have a family, like you don't even want that anymore and your mother will just have to deal with it'.  
  
'Well I don't know, I just –'  
  
_'Jiyong'._  
  
Jiyong shuts up and stares at the knee of Seunghyun's pants.  
  
'Since the _day_ I met you, I've _known_ what you wanted,' Seunghyun says. 'You wanted to be a great rapper and you wanted a family. You wanted a wife and kids and this particular life you could see in your head--- and you'll have that one day. You'll have a wife and you'll have a million kids and you'll be happy'.

Jiyong sighs and tries to deny it's true. He wanted that life, he wanted the wife and the kids and the happy home. He still wants them, somehow--- even standing here, more in love than he's ever been in his life, he still dreams about that other life.  
  
'I'm happy _now_ '.

Seunghyun squeezes Jiyong's fingers in answer.  
  
'I know,' he says. ‘I know you're happy and you like what we have right now. I don't think you're going to wake up tomorrow and start looking for a wife but one day you're going to'.  
  
Jiyong starts to protest but Seunghyun shushes him.  
  
'And I just want you to know that I understand that. With all these weddings lately and all these talks with your mom, I know you're starting to think about it sometimes. You're starting to wonder how you're supposed to have the wife and kids with me around'.  
  
'Oh, fuck you,' Jiyong whines. 'You don't know what I've been thinking'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs obnoxiously and squeezes Jiyong's hand again. He pulls him in closer and tries to get Jiyong to look him in the face.  
  
'We have a long way to go,' Seunghyun says assuredly. 'We've got _years_ Jiyong. I believe that. What we've got right now is too good for me to think otherwise, but one day five years from now, ten years from now, you'll wake up and want those other things and I'll understand'.

He pulls out of Seunghyun's grip and groans, his eyes on the ceiling.  
  
'Oh my God,' he whispers. 'This is unbelievable'.  
  
This is Seunghyun all over, Seunghyun to a T, his greatest failing--- this insecurity, this need to think over every possible outcome of every situation, to pore over the future and all the ways it could go wrong or otherwise. He plans, he has contingencies. He's a thinker and he shouldn't be. He thinks too much.

'You okay?'  
  
Jiyong looks down at him, eyebrow raised, wondering how in the grand scheme of things, he could be in love with someone so painfully annoying.

'I _was,'_ Jiyong answers. 'My day was going pretty well before you decided, very _definitively_ , that I'm going to leave you one day so I can have a wife and kids and _that's okay with you._ I mean Jesus, Seunghyun, that's really fucked up'.

Seunghyun smiles apologetically.  
  
'I know,' he says. 'I've just been thinking about it lately and you mentioned your mom again today and her wanting you to settle down and I just wanted to tell you that … I mean .. _you know._ I don't want you to worry about that kind of stuff. I don't want you to think I'm stopping you from having that life. When the day comes that you want that, it's okay'.

Jiyong lays his hands on Seunghyun's shoulders again, digging his fingers in hard enough to give him a little shake, as if that might help him come to his senses.  
  
'Will you shut the fuck up? Please?' Jiyong begs. 'I don't want to think about that stuff. I'm fucking 25, not 50. I have plenty of time to figure out what I want. I've been pining over you for years, who's to say I won't still be in love with you when I'm 60? Or that we won't break up next week because you're a total fucking idiot?’

Seunghyun smiles.

'So what if I want kids one day?' Jiyong asks. 'Don't get so ahead of yourself. You drive me _crazy_ sometimes. If you and I are still together in ten years-time and I decide I want kids, I’ll worry about it then? Don't assume I'll ditch you because when I was twelve I decided I wanted a wife and three kids. That's _crazy_ '.

'It's not cr--'  
  
Jiyong digs his fingers in tighter, giving Seunghyun another shake.  
  
'Yes it is. It's _crazy_ and it's crazy for you to think you need to _have_ this conversation just because my mother has weddings on the brain and is pestering me about not having a girlfriend'.  
  
_'Okay'._

'Okay? Are you done with this?'  
  
Seunghyun nods.

_'Good._ Thank-you. Anyway, what makes you so sure it will be _me?_ ' he asks, his fingers folding through the collar of Seunghyun's shirt. 'Maybe you'll leave _me_. Maybe _you'll_ wake up one morning and want something else'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles but shakes his head.  
  
'Won't happen'.  
  
'Why not?'

Seunghyun pulls him down by the front of his shirt and kisses him. And maybe there's something about his kisses and his gentle hands and the way he treats Jiyong sometimes like porcelain that makes Jiyong believe him. Maybe Seunghyun _won't_ be the one to end it down the line. Maybe he's not capable of it.

When they break the kiss, Jiyong tries to get his bearings. He focusses on the counter-top over Seunghyun's shoulder and the burgundy sheets his mother said wouldn't go with the wallpaper in his room. Little did she know.

'We should test those sheets out,' Jiyong says, his neck craned while Seunghyun's lips leave a trail of kisses from his shoulder to his ear. (An apology, he assumes, for being an idiot)

'I have to wash them first'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes flutter closed when Seunghyun finds that sweet spot below his jaw, his fingertips cradling his neck on the other side.

'That's a shame,' Jiyong says. 'I have to go soon. I have plans tonight'.

He promised friends he'd meet up with them for dinner. It's been booked for two weeks

\--- but Seunghyun kisses his jaw and slides a hand up under his shirt, warm fingers moving around his waist and---  
  
'Forget your plans'.  
  
Jiyong laughs to say, _'as if'_ and is moments from saying as much when Seunghyun's hand tugs the right of his pants down a few inches. The words die in his throat watching Seunghyun lean forward, watching his shirt bunch up beneath Seunghyun's fingers, watching Seunghyun kiss the bare skin of his hip.

He feels Seunghyun's touch in his stomach, in his knees.

Jiyong makes a few incomprehensible noises and then manages a stilted, _'um – maybe I can stay. Just for a little while'._  
  
'All night,' Seunghyun says, his fingers in the curve of Jiyong's lower back. His lips move along, kissing their way to his belly button.  
  
_'All night'._

 

 

 * * *

 

 

Three hours later, after the burgundy sheets are washed and out of the dryer and haphazardly thrown on the bed, they finish up their two hours of on-and-off foreplay, of teasing touches and kisses and promises of what's to come--- and Jiyong has the best sex of his fucking life.

The burgundy sheets don't make Seunghyun feel depressed or too young or too old, they don't give him nightmares or breed thoughts better left alone --- they help him sleep. Jiyong isn't sure if it's the fact they christened the sheets with the longest and best sex they've ever had or if Burgundy is just the magic colour.  
  
It doesn't really matter.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is the sheet beneath him. He doesn't think about its history, he just sees Burgundy. The colour of his grandfather’s favourite sweater, the flowers outside his first girlfriends window, the colour of the wine Seunghyun poured when they were alone together on a cold winter night, drawing pictures in the condensation on the window.  
  
The second thing he sees is Seunghyun's hand, latched onto his like a newborn clutching at a parent. Their hands are between them, his fingers caught beneath Seunghyun's palm. For a moment it's sweet. It’s a childlike gesture, innocuous, accidental. It's not until he takes in the full picture that it stops being that. He sees Seunghyun's sleeping face two feet from his own, he sees burgundy below their entwined hands and he remembers _everything._

_'Shit'._

He pulls his hand back and props himself up on his elbows, eyes darting around the dim room. Seunghyun's bedroom, the shuttered curtains, his socks on the floor. He runs fingers across the burgundy sheets and finds them painfully obnoxious.

The memories rush back at him now until all he can remember at any one time is Seunghyun's lips and his hands and the feel of him. He remembers it all like a montage from a film, one important moment after another, every spoken word, every shed tear, every misplaced feeling. He remembers Seunghyun kissing him by the door and this overwhelming need to kiss him back, this flood of feeling saying, _'I want to be here, I want to do this, I want this back'_. He remembers Seunghyun's hands on him. He remembers Seunghyun inside him. He remembers wanting that.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm the flood of panic blooming in his chest.  
  
_You fucking idiot. Shit. Fuck._

One, two, three, four, _five._  
  
He remembers Seunghyun tying his hair up when he was sick and the smile on his face in the bathroom. He remembers lying on his bed in the dark then later in the dim light. He remembers Seunghyun saying he slept with other people. He fucked women and let a man he didn't know fuck him. Jiyong remembers the floor go out from under him. He remembers crying his eyes out and Seunghyun saying he loved him.

Somewhere amongst all that he remembers a moment of clarity.

Somewhere between screaming and crying and sucking Seunghyun's dick, he remembers making a choice. To leave, to stop coming back, to stop pining for information, to stop romanticising what was gone. The years with Seunghyun were the best of his life and he let himself believe it was Seunghyun alone that made them great. When he pulled himself from Seunghyun's bedroom floor with tears in his eyes, he knew that was wrong. He came to his senses. He knew he'd been naïve and stupid, that he'd let this lost relationship run his life. He was going to leave their past behind and be better off.

Kwon Jiyong, intelligent and independent adult.

Then, Seunghyun said _I love you_ and in some naïve, stupid part of Jiyong's mind, that _affected_ him. It took him back to a time when that meant something, when that made him feel whole. A few sweet nothings and he spread his legs. It was just that easy.

For what felt like the hundredth fucking time, he had told himself it was over, _'I'm over it,'_ and then he wasn't.

 _It_ wasn't.

_You fucking idiot. What the hell is the matter with you?_

Six, seven, eight, nine, _ten._

  


_*_

 

 

The panic begins to subside but it leaves something else in its wake.  
  
He looks down on Seunghyun's sleeping face and it isn't the guy who said, _'I love you,_ ' or _'you were the million moments that mattered,'_ he sees. It's the Seunghyun who wouldn't go to bars or clubs with him because he didn't feel like it. It's the Seunghyun who wouldn't try new foods or sleep at his apartment as much as Jiyong had to sleep at his. It's the Seunghyun who was stubborn and selfish and often oblivious. It's the Seunghyun who chose to leave.

The embarrassment hits Jiyong like a slap to the face and he pulls the sheets off, knowing, _'I must be some kind of idiot. I've lost my fucking mind'._

He gets off the bed and picks his socks up off the floor, trying to remember where---

'Your clothes are in the laundry'.

He flinches at the sound of Seunghyun's voice and how like Hyeong-bae he sounds. With his eyes closed, they sound almost alike and a wave of guilt surges up in him so fast it leaves him breathless. He mumbles a quiet thanks but avoids Seunghyun's gaze completely. He keeps his back to the bed from the second he leaves it, all the way out the door and down the hall. He huddles in the laundry and pulls his clothes from the dryer, noting with resignation that his pants have shrunk just a little as he pulls them on. He has to suck in his gut to do the button at his waist and a patch of ankle shows where it didn't before.

He won't smell like sex when he gets home but he'll look like he gained twenty pounds. Maybe he'll tell Hyeong-bae he went on an all-night food bender. He ate half his body weight in noodles and pastries and slipped into a diabetic coma.

He thinks of it in passing but the moment he allows himself to really think about Hyeong-bae, he is overcome with shame. It hits him like a tonne of bricks. He has to sit on the cold tiles of the laundry to pull himself together.

_I've fucked everything up._

 

 

_*_

 

 

When he comes back to the bedroom in search of the perfect words to say, _'tell me yesterday never happened, tell me all of this is a fucked-up dream,'_ Seunghyun is right where he left him.  
  
He is sprawled on his back, the blankets down around his waist leaving his chest bare down to his belly button. His hands are behind his head. He looks almost like a tourist on vacation at the beach, soaking up some sun.

That annoys him more than anything.

'I'm going to go,' he says, for a lack of anything else to say. There's no point begging Seunghyun for the truth of what happened, for some pertinent bit of information he missed, like it all being a crazy dream, because it isn't there. He came over to check on Seunghyun because his grandmother is dying in the hospital and foolishly enough, he still gives a shit about him--- and they had sex. No grey areas, no complications, just straight up stupidity.

'Okay'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't show his cards one way or the other. He has the same blank expression on his face as he did last night. He doesn't look like he'll say anything more than OK. He isn't going to say, ‘about last night’. He isn't going to say anything.

So, _Jiyong_ says something because he _has_ to. Because one brief OK, isn't the way this ends. It can't be. Something this monumentally awful needs a better footnote than that. He owes it to himself. He owes it to Hyeong-bae.

'Last night,' he begins.

Seunghyun stops him, 'I know'.

What does _that_ mean? _I know._ Does he? Jiyong doesn't know himself until he's saying it.

'I'm sure you _do_ know but I'm going to say it anyway just to make sure we're on the same page. Last night was nothing. It was just sex, it didn't mean anything and it won't ever happen again'.  
  
Seunghyun responds quickly, his expression unchanged, his voice even.

'Yeah. I got it'.  
  
Jiyong's eyebrows rise despite himself, almost surprised by the answer. Surprised that after everything that happened yesterday, this is how it's going to end. With a curt, quiet conversation in monosyllables.

'Okay,' Jiyong says, uncertain.

Seunghyun looks distracted for a moment and Jiyong wonders, is this it? Is he going to say something more profound than _okay_ or _yeah?_

'I'll see you,' Seunghyun says.

Jiyong laughs quietly, almost disbelieving.  
  
'Yeah, okay'.  
  
He turns and heads half-way down the hall before retracing his steps, planting himself in the doorway where Seunghyun is watching him, blank face and all. Not surprised or unsurprised to see him there.

 _No way,_ Jiyong thinks. _No way_ is this how the biggest fuck-up of the century is going to end; with a walk of shame out of the apartment and Seunghyun laying there like he's on holiday, not giving him a damn thing.

'What happens now?' Jiyong asks. 'I go home and then what? Things continue the way they have been? We pretend as though the past five years never happened? We stay away from each other and live our separate lives? You ignore me at work and I keep feeling like shit because you're keeping things from me? Is that what happens?'

Seunghyun looks a little more alive now but barely. He looks a million miles away, physically unable to stay present in this moment and Jiyong is tired of it. After only a handful of meetings, this _thing_ Seunghyun does, this place he goes now, is painful.

'Is that what _happens?'_  
  
Seunghyun nods silently in answer.

'I thought so'.  
  
Jiyong thinks about everything that happened yesterday, everything Seunghyun said and did and how through it all, even laying there with Seunghyun inside him, he _knew_ this is how it would be. Nothing would change. He would have no answers, he would have no closure. Seunghyun would still be there, silent and unreadable and life would go on in the same unbearable way unless something changed--- unless Seunghyun told him everything or Jiyong gave him up for good.

'You told me you loved me,' Jiyong says, arms folded across his chest. 'You were wearing my key. You kissed me. We had _sex'._

'That didn't mean anything.'  
  
Jiyong sighs.

'Why is this so _hard_ for you, Seunghyun? Can't you be a real human being for five minutes?'

Prolonged silence is all the answer he gets.

'Am I asking for too much? I don't want things to go back to the way they were before,' Jiyong says. 'I don't want to be your boyfriend. I don't want to forgive and forget. I just want answers,' he says, 'so I can decide what I'm supposed to do and how I'm supposed to feel. It's not fair, what you're doing to me. This whole thing isn't fair'.

'What do you want me to say?'  
  
'I want to know what happened to you,' Jiyong urges. 'I want to know what broke us up, I want to know where to go from here. I want to be your friend again Seunghyun, I want to be able to show up on your doorstep without feeling like my hearts been ripped out of my chest. I don't want us to be strangers. I don't want you to look at me the way you've been looking at me and I don't want to be so confused that I would willingly have sex with someone who treats me like shit!'

Seunghyun looks away.  
  
'Do you understand what I _did_ yesterday? I threw away a months-long relationship that might have been going somewhere and what for? For _you_? You won't even _look_ at me now that the suns up. I'm so confused by your bullshit, I chose sex with _you_ over someone who actually treats me well'.  
  
Seunghyun's jaw clenches and Jiyong's glad that he's still capable of feeling something, especially anger. He wants him to feel that more than anything.

'For a while yesterday, you were yourself again,' Jiyong says. 'You looked at me like I was actually worth your time. Hell, you were nice to me when we were fucking. Then afterwards you were cold again without telling me why. I can't do that Seunghyun, I can't do this shit with you’.

They make eye contact and for a brief moment Jiyong can _see_ Seunghyun, deep down inside his shell, but only for a moment. He retreats.  
  
'Why did you come back?' Jiyong asks. 'If this is how you're going to live, why come back at all?'

With another prolonged silence, Jiyong gives up on Seunghyun. If each moment were six months, he'd be middle aged by the time Seunghyun heard him and dead long before he could dream of an answer.

'You’ve had so many chances now,' Jiyong says. 'But this is all you have, isn't it? This is what you are now. You've crawled inside yourself and now you're stuck. You're so far gone you can't even see me anymore. I'm standing right in front of you and you can't see me'.

Seunghyun stays where he is, silent, unhearing. His hands below his head, even now. The fleeting moments yesterday when he seemed like his old self, feeling and kind and capable of love--- they seem like fantasy now. They compound the heavy weight in Jiyong's stomach, the guilt and the embarrassment and the shame. This is the Seunghyun who betrayed him. The Seunghyun who left him without answers.

'Maybe you should go back to Japan,' Jiyong says, turning away. 'I think maybe--- we were better off without you'.

In the corner of his eye he sees the effect his words have on Seunghyun and the power in them. Even with his face unchanged, Jiyong can see the damage. As if his words cut the strings that were holding Seunghyun up. As if he had been away all that time thinking everyone was better off without him, but until this moment he had had a semblance of hope it wasn't true, that he was missed and loved and would be taken back.

But now he knew better.

Jiyong keeps moving.

He doesn't stop for a second. He walks down the hall, grabs his keys while he toes on his shoes, and he's out the door as fast as possible, trying to leave that _look_ on Seunghyun's face far behind him.

  
  


_* * *_

 

 

Twelve txt messages.  
  
Three voice-mails.  
  
Eleven missed calls.

Jiyong's phone is in the car on the passenger seat and he reads through Hyeong-bae's increasingly worried texts and voice-mails while he sits in Seunghyun's driveway. He wonders if things might have been different if he had remembered his phone. If, when Seunghyun kissed him and held his face, his phone rang. If that would have made a difference. If that would have stopped what happened next.

It is almost ten in the morning. He's been gone for almost 24 hours.

 

  


_* * *_

  


 

He doesn't quite make it to the front door.

It's not until the elevator doors open and the familiar scent of air freshener and carpet cleaner greets him that his choices really dawn on him. No more late-night talks, no more weekend trips, no more shared jokes or goodnight kisses. That's all over now. Hyeong-bae will leave him. He sits cross-legged on the carpet outside his front door. He can't go in yet. He doesn't know what to say.

He knew all along what he was doing with Seunghyun. Running his hands over Seunghyun's bare skin, he _knew_ what he was doing. However much he pushed thoughts of Hyeong-bae to the back of his mind, he was still there. For every touch and action, he was there.

There are no excuses. He made a choice. The wrong choice, but a choice all the same.

_I've never cheated before._

He's been on the other end of it so many times, girl after girl explained it to him --- _It's not you, it's me --- but maybe if you were less busy, if you were around more often, if you tried a little harder, maybe this wouldn't have happened, maybe I wouldn't have done it ---_

He wonders if all those girls felt this way? He wonders if Seunghyun felt this way after he fucked all those people in Japan. If he remembered Jiyong's smiling face, their shared laughs and domesticity. He wonders if Seunghyun regretted his choices or if by that point he was already too far gone.

It doesn't really matter.

Jiyong thinks about everything Hyeong-bae has done for him since they met as adults in that club. There was so much shit to wade through at the beginning of their relationship but life on the other side of that? Hyeong-bae is _amazing_ and so much more than Jiyong deserves. He knows that now.

_He's ruined everything._

He crosses his legs and closes his eyes, wanting this moment to drag forever, wanting time to grind to a halt. He can't go through this again, he can't wake up in an empty bed or turn with a smile to someone who isn't there.

 

 

 

_*_

 

 

 

He opens the door quietly, careful to keep the noise down as the lock clicks shut behind him. The curtains are shut tight, the room dim, bathed in a flickering light from the muted television in the lounge-room. The apartment is quiet and for a brief moment Jiyong dares to imagine nobody is home.

He empties his pockets by the door and toes off his shoes, taking slow steps towards the TV, seeing clearer with each one – a pair of feet at the end of the lounge.

He follows the wall until he can see Hyeong-bae laying there in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair mussed from sleep, his jaw dark with stubble. He looks achingly tired. Even asleep, he looks restless and uncomfortable and Jiyong wonders if he waited up all night for him.  
  
He stalls, unsure if he should let him sleep or wake him up. He doesn't have an excuse yet for not coming home. He hasn't thought of a lie good enough to make everything alright. Part of him doesn't want to lie. Some small, barely audible voice in his head is keeping the flame alive--- maybe he'll just confess and be a good person for a change. Hyeong-bae can leave him and find someone else, someone who won't throw everything away in a moment of weakness.

He needs to get changed. He needs get out of the shirt he was wearing when Seunghyun fucked him, because suddenly being in it and feeling it against his skin, even smelling it makes him feel ill. He doesn't want Hyeong-bae to see him in anything Seunghyun touched or even looked at. That would be another betrayal on a growing pile.

He moves towards the bedroom but doesn't get ten feet. Gaho bounds up the hallway, barking once, twice, three times for good measure and Jiyong's stomach sinks. He scratches Gaho behind the ears and rubs his belly when he rolls onto his side. He keeps his eyes firmly on Gaho's familiar face and not anywhere _near_ the lounge-room where the leather lounge is creaking under the weight of Hyeong-bae's movements but his tired voice draws Jiyong's gaze where he doesn't want to take it.

'You okay?'

Hyeong-bae sounds the way he looks, tired and worn out. He's facing in his direction, with an elbow over the lounge so he can look Jiyong up and down.

Jiyong stands, his palms flat on his thighs, not sure where to put them.

'I'm okay'.

Hyeong-bae smiles and turns until all Jiyong can see is the back of his head dipping out of sight. A lighter clicks and smoke wafts slowly up and up.

When Jiyong rounds the end of the couch, Hyeong-bae is on his back, a cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. There's an ashtray on the floor with a dozen cigarette butts mangled in a heap.

'You don't smoke. Why are you smoking?'

Hyeong-bae's wrist hangs delicately over the lounge, his cigarette dangling a foot above the ashtray. He looks half asleep and offers Jiyong a weak smile.

'I have one every now and then'.

'Since when?'

'Since _always_. If you're referring to this pack specifically,' he suggests, patting the crumpled pack in his pocket, _'_ well that depends what time it is'.

'It's ten in the morning,' Jiyong answers, knowing full well what he's walking into.

'Well,' Hyeong-bae says, raising his free hand. He counts silently on his fingers all the hours Jiyong has been away. 'I suppose I started smoking again about twelve hours ago? When you'd been missing for four or five'.

Jiyong sinks down on the armrest and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

'I'm sorry I didn't come home'.

He _is_ sorry. He wishes he never left home, that he walked right through that door exactly when he said he would. He wishes he had never spoken to Seungri and never gone to Seunghyun's apartment. What good did it do either of them? He wanted to do the right thing, he wanted to make sure Seunghyun was alright.

'Don't worry about me, do what you want'.

Jiyong sinks down by Hyeong-bae's feet but he moves away.

'I stopped in at a friends place,' Jiyong says.

He hears sincerity in his own voice-- it's all so easy, the words come automatically. He's surprised by his own choice but Hyeong-bae can't leave him. He can't tell him the truth. _He can't leave_. He has to lie. He has to.

'I had a migraine. I fell asleep, I'm sorry'.

'That's a long sleep,' Hyeong-bae says, taking a drag of his cigarette. 'I called you twenty times. You couldn't answer one call? One text?'

'I left my phone in the car'.

'That's convenient'.

'What does that mean? I'm _sorry_. I lost track of time, I left my phone in the car, I don't know what else to say'.

Hyeong-bae shakes his head, tired and slow.

'You said you'd be back in _two hours_ and then you were _gone_ , Jiyong. Six hours later, I hadn't heard from you. I send you a few texts, you don't answer. I call you a few times. Nothing. A few more hours go by and still nothing, then it's midnight and _still nothing'_.

He takes another drag then cradles his head in his hand.

'I had no idea what happened to you. I don't know what's been going on with you lately? I mean, for weeks you were being sick day and night, now it's migraines? Last week you passed out in the kitchen. You can imagine all the things running through my head when you call me on the phone with a migraine and then disappear for almost an _entire_ day'.

Jiyong moves to speak but Hyeong-bae raises his hand to silence him.

'You know the worst part of this arrangement,' he says, gesturing between them, cigarette burning between his fingers, 'is I have no-one to call when you go missing. What if you passed out while driving? What if you had an accident? I can't call your work to see if you're there. I can't call your family. I can't call any of your friends to try and find you. The only consolation I have is knowing that if you _died,_ it would be on the news or on the internet before your body went cold'.

Hyeong-bae stands up, agitated. Jiyong follows him to his feet, wracked with guilt.

'All I could do all night was sit here on this fucking couch,' He says, gesturing at the cushion and throw where he slept, 'chain smoking, hoping that you were okay because there was no reason to think otherwise'.

'Hyung, I'm sor--'

'And you fell asleep? That's your explanation? You went to a friend’s house and fell asleep and that's why you were missing for almost a full day without texting me or calling me to let me know you were still alive? You _fell asleep_?'

Hyeong-bae bends and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray.

'That's not good enough'.

With the look on Hyeong-bae's face, Jiyong finds his heart begin to labour in his chest. _Don't leave me, please don't leave me._

'I don't know what to tell you,' Jiyong says quietly. 'I'm sorry? I'm sorry. How many ways can I say I'm sorry? What do you want me to say?'

He hears Seunghyun's voice in his head saying, _what do you want me to say,_ and feels the guilt even more acutely because he knows what it's like to hear that, knowing you won't get the truth.

As if reading his mind, Hyeong-bae says, 'The truth?'

Jiyong's stomach sinks and a lump forms in his throat. A part of him thinks, _this is it--- now's your chance to do the right thing. Come clean._

But he doesn't _want_ to. He doesn't want to tell Hyeong-bae what a huge mess he's made of things. He doesn't want to give this life up. His eyes flitter to the lounge, to the television, to the door leading off the balcony and he sees a hundred moments he and Hyeong-bae have spent together. He can't bear the thought of there not being a hundred more.

'The truth?'

'Yeah,' Hyeong-bae answers. 'Like, while I was sitting here at four am _worried_ about you--- you were off somewhere, hanging out with your friends, not thinking about me at all. Because that's the way we are, I guess'.

Hyeong-bae's words surprise him.  
  
'Wait--- _what?_ I don--'  
  
'Things have been weird between us lately,' Hyeong-bae says, 'maybe I just didn't see it before. Maybe this isn't going to work out with us. I love you but you can't even text me when you're not coming home? Jesus Christ, you have no idea what the last few hours have been like'.

Jiyong's heart leaps into his throat and he takes the smallest possible step back, as though getting an inch further away will give him room to breathe.

'I feel like there's always something you're not telling me now. There's always something going on with you that I'm not allowed to know about and whatever it is? I don't like it. I don't want to be here if this is how it's going to be,' Hyeong-bae says.

The air in the room suddenly seems cold and dry. It sticks in Jiyong's throat like spun cotton until he can barely breathe. He tries to cut in, to say what he needs to say but his voice is barely more than a whisper.

'Hyung---'  
  
'I don't know what to do anymore Jiyong. Every time I think we're okay again, something happens and I doubt us all over again. I don't know how this is supposed to work between us. There's always something _going on_ '.

'Hyung---'  
  
_'What?'_ Hyeong-bae asks, exasperated. 'What is it?'  
  
'Do you _love_ me?' Jiyong blurts out. 'You just said you love me’.  
  
He definitely heard him. He heard the words slipped in. I love you _but._

Hyeong-bae scoffs quietly, mumbles a quiet _shit_ under his breath and rubs his tired eyes. He looks down and shifts his weight as though he's embarrassed.

'Great. Well, that's not how I imagined saying that for the first time'.

When Jiyong answers he's barely audible, voice coming out in a whisper.

'Have you then? Imagined saying it? To me?'

'Well --- yeah, Jiyong. I have'.

_Oh._

_._

_._

_._

Jiyong's heart pounds in his chest. After everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours, he can't take this now. Not now, not today, not after everything he's done, _he can't take this._ How can he stand here in the same room with him? How can they breathe the same air after what he's done? He _cheated_ and he's rewarded with this?

'So you do?' he asks, voice uneven. 'You love me?'

Hyeong-bae shrugs, arms out like he's been caught.

'I love you,' he says.

_I love you._

_._

_._

_._  
  
The next thing Jiyong knows he is in the bathroom behind a locked door, sitting on the edge of the bath, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He wipes away any thankless tear persistent enough to try and run. He stares at the bags beneath his eyes and his unbrushed hair and wonders what it is about him anyone could love.

Maybe yesterday he could have sat here and forced it. He could have repeated some mantra, _'You are kind, you are smart, you are successful. You deserve this ---'_ but not today. All he sees today is a liar and a cheater. Someone so messed up they probably shouldn't be dating at all--- but here he is anyway with Hyeong-bae in the next room saying, 'I love you,' for the first time.

The timing is so perfect, it's almost a joke.

Hyeong-bae loves him. _Love_ loves, not the way he loves cake and John Wayne and making up little raps about his day-to-day affairs but _love_ love. Like he wants to wake up every day seeing his face and come home every night to the same.

The worst part is, sitting here in the bathroom, Jiyong feels the same way. He wants to wake up every day to Hyeong-bae's broad back and unshaven face. He wants to talk to him every day about nothing at all, just for the sake of talking to him. He wants to hold him and kiss him and keep him safe.

How can he go out there and say it back to him? How can he let Hyeong-bae make a fool of himself? If he doesn't tell the truth he'll have to live with this every day of his life. Every time he looks Hyeong-bae in the face, this **THING** he's done will be there. Every time. Every second of every day for as long as they're together.

He doesn't know if he can do that.

But what's the alternative? He tells the truth and Hyeong-bae leaves. There are no _ifs or buts_ , he will leave. Period. He will be alone again, with nothing but the memories of not one but two precious relationships gone down the toilet.

He washes his face in the sink and tries to make a decision but he doesn't know what to say. Not even as he opens the door and re-joins Hyeong-bae in the lounge-room. He doesn't know what he's going to do until he's doing it.  
  
'Crying wasn't the reaction I expected,' Hyeong-bae says, looking confused and put out.

In an instant, Jiyong is with him. He throws his arms around Hyeong-bae's neck, tears prickling behind his eyes. He can't tell if he's happy or feeling sorry for himself.

He talks into Hyeong-bae's shirt, 'Say it again'.

'I love you?'

Jiyong laughs, at the whole fucking thing, at all the parts of him wanting to be happy fighting the parts of him that won't allow it. He laughs at how fucked up and complicated things are.

He kisses Hyeong-bae's neck and feels warm arms slide around his waist.

Hyeong-bae really _does_ love him. He loves him so much he doesn't expect or need him to say it back--- and that's it really.

Into Hyeong-bae's shirt, so quietly he's amazed Hyeong-bae hears him at all, Jiyong says it.  
  
'I love you too'.

.

.

.

 _There’s no going back now._  
  
In a moment Hyeong-bae lifts him off the ground. Surprised, Jiyong barely gets his legs around Hyeong-bae's waist before warm lips meet his. The kiss is only brief but Jiyong can feel _exactly_ how Hyeong-bae feels.

When he pulls back, Hyeong-bae is looking at him like he doesn't know what to say. Like he won the lottery. As though he thought, never in a million years could Jiyong love him back-- and it's that. It's that look on his face that makes Jiyong love him. That makes him glad to say it over and over again.  
  
'I love you'.  
  
'What was that?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
_'I love you!'_  
  
'I didn't hear you, say it again?'  
  
Jiyong laughs and kisses Hyeong-bae's forehead, _'I love you'._

'You love me?'  
  
'Yeah, I do,' Jiyong says, running a hand through Hyeong-bae's hair. 'And I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry I didn't come home. I wasn't out partying, okay? I wasn't having fun. I fell asleep. I wasn't feeling well, that's it. It won't happen again'.  
  
Hyeong-bae manages, even with Jiyong in his arms, to shrug his shoulders a little.  
  
'Honestly, you can do whatever you want if you keep saying you love me'.  
  


 

_* * *_

  
  
  
  
  
When Jiyong's back on solid ground and the guilt disappears, for just a little while, under the weight of his happiness that Hyeong-bae _loves_ him, Jiyong resolves to change. The world he left that morning, of silence and longing and humiliation— that's not his problem. He doesn't have to live in that world just because Seunghyun is there.

He doesn't have to deal with Seunghyun's shit. He can't simply flick off the switch that cares about him but he doesn't have to fuel it either. Seunghyun has made his choice over and over again. He wants distance and his secrets. He wants to be alone.

Hyeong-bae? He wants company and life and _Jiyong_ \--- and Jiyong wants that too. He likes the feeling of saying _I love you._ He wants to keep it going for as long as possible. He wants to out-run the guilt and karma and certain things catching up with him.

So they go away.

Jiyong pushes it, though Hyeong-bae is reluctant, and two days later they're in Jirisan. He decides he wants to climb a mountain. It's symbolic of one thing or another and Hyeong-bae's scrunched up face at the thought of hiking 6000 feet in what he calls 'a wintery autumn,' is all the more reason to do it--- even if they only make it a quarter of the way up.

So that's where they are for two weeks, doing nothing but climbing the same mountains trying to get a little further each time, while young kids and the elderly speed ahead of them.

'I thought you were supposed to be fit,' Jiyong whines half-way through the trip, half-way up a mountain, the crisp air stinging his lungs.

'I am. You're not. You want me to leave you here? Because I will. I'll finish this thing then meet you in our motel room in 6 hours when you give up'.

Jiyong pouts and focusses on his breathing, thinking about how in another life he could have run up and down these mountains. He trips on a rock and Hyeong-bae grabs him by the elbow, steadying him.

'Well you're not a mountain man,' he says.  
  
Jiyong stops where he is and groans, wondering why he wanted to come to a national park in the first place. He could have chosen a nice hotel with room service and a pool anywhere in the world--- instead, he's bundled up in clothes that make enough noise to wake a sleeping street, with a wind-chilled face and a boyfriend who finds his total lack of fitness _funny_.

Then, he feels a little better because Hyeong-bae takes his hand (after checking behind and above them for other hikers). For a few minutes Jiyong allows himself to get pulled on ahead--- lost in the fact he's outside, in public, holding Hyeong-bae's hand. When the sound of distant voices reach them, Hyeong-bae gives Jiyong a quick kiss then releases his hand but that little thing is enough to keep him going--- and despite all odds he actually makes it to the top.

That's all they really do for two weeks, climb the same mountains over and over, spending their nights in the smallest motel they could find, renting two rooms but using only one. They just spend time together and Jiyong is grateful for every second. They have a nice time.

 

 

_*_

 

 

On their second last day, at the base of the highest, shittiest mountain--- rugged up, defying his blisters and red nose, Jiyong waits for Hyeong-bae to show up. Just before dawn each morning, he sneaks back into his own room and Jiyong doesn't see him for a few hours. The whole thing is exhilarating in a sad kind of way, like trying to sleep with your girlfriend in your parent’s house.

He watches an older man go by in full hiking gear. He must be 60 years old but he's already charging up the path. Jiyong feels woefully unfit.

He passes the time by looking at the trees disappear into low-hanging clouds and finds the whole place sort of peaceful, even with the occasional interjection of voices and laughter from passers-by. He blocks out the extraneous noises and wonders if he's the type of person who could survive meditation.

Probably not.  
  
  


*  
  
  


When his phone rings in his pocket, he's so startled he _jumps._

He doesn't recognise the number. He thinks about letting it go but Hyeong-bae is nowhere in sight so he answers it to pass the time. The brief conversation he has makes him regret his choice. His stomach sinks and his heart pounds.

'I can't do it,' he stresses. 'I can't do it. I'm _sorry!'_  
  
Her voice comes through the phone sharp and pointed, angry or just stressed, worried and fed up.

'There's nobody else. I don't know who else to call. I have no-one else's number except yours. If you can't give me anyone else to call, it _has_ to be you'.

Jiyong listens to Seunghyun's _sister,_ of all people, beg him to do the one thing he really can't do. See Seunghyun, and not just see him but physically force him into a car and get him to a hospital to visit his dying grandmother because he hasn't _been_ one single time and she might not have the day.

_This is a joke, Jesus. This is all a fucking joke._

A part of him disconnects from her frantic voice and what she's saying to him because it's all so unbelievable. Not just the words she's saying, that Seunghyun hasn't visited his grandmother in hospital--- but the fact that she needs him, of all people to make Seunghyun go.

'How can _I_ make him go?' he asks. 'Why hasn't he gone?'  
  
'I don't know!' She cries. 'We don't know. He won’t answer his phone calls and when we visit he won't answer the door. I don't know what he's fucking doing but he needs to get to the fucking hospital _okay?_ '

Jiyong's eyes widen at the tone of voice and the swearing and he thinks --- maybe --- he's never heard Seunghyun's sister swear before. Not in fifteen years.

'I'm sorry,' Jiyong answers. 'I just don't understand what's going on here? And honestly, we're not on good terms right now. He's not going to listen to me. This seems more like a family problem, I don't want to get involved'.

'Jiyong, you are his _friend_ and I don't know who else to call. Mom is fucking hysterical and we don't know what to do. We thought he was coming here when we weren't here, okay? A few days ago the nurse said she hadn't seen him. Ever. That _had_ to be a mistake so I called him and you know what he said? _That's true. I haven't been._ He hasn't come to see grandma once since she's been here. Do you understand what I'm saying? And now that we _know_ \--- he won't answer our calls, he won't let us in the apartment. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with him or why he's not here but he needs to be here or I swear to God, our mother will never speak to him again for as long as she lives'.

'For fucks sake,' Jiyong whispers.

There's a pause on the line so long he worries they lost the connection, but Seunghyun's sister speaks again, her voice more controlled, more serious, more impossible to refuse.  
  
'Seunghyun _needs_ to be here. We've been trying to get him here for days and we can't. He won't listen to us, he won't speak to us, he won't see us. I need you to try okay? Just try, _please_. Figure out why he isn't at this hospital and make him come. _Today_ '.

Jiyong sees Hyeong-bae out of the corner of his eye, trudging along the path to join him at long last, so he turns around. He keeps his back to Hyeong-bae and speaks lower, face down towards the ground. Tears prickle his eyes.  
  
'I'm not even in the city right now. I'm at a fucking national park about to climb a mountain. I don't know if I can get back in time'.  
  
_'Try'._

'God, is there _nobody_ else?' Jiyong pleads. 'I'm sure I could find some other numbers for you somewhere. He has a lot of friends besides me. _I don't want to do this!_ '  
  
'Jiyong, _please'._

And that's all it takes to ruin a holiday.

He reluctantly agrees to her pleas for help, insane as they are. When Hyeong-bae finally reaches him Jiyong can barely look him in the eye.

'Holidays over'.  
  


 

_* * *_

 

 

When Seunghyun lets him into the apartment three hours later, he looks fine. Distant and inhuman and like the robot he has mostly been for the past two months but basically _fine._  
  
He stands there inside the doorway with a baggy white shirt tucked into his pants in places, the words 'Calvin Klein' visible above the waistband of his trousers. He says, _'hi,'_ not surprised or otherwise to see Jiyong standing there, which is unbelievable in itself.

Being in the apartment again alone with Seunghyun after everything that's happened, Jiyong can't think of anything to say for a while. He just stares at Seunghyun's toes, at his reasonably clean apartment and his general appearance of being okay and wonders what he's doing here. Seunghyun has legs that work, he has a car, he has a soul (probably). There's nothing stopping him from going to the hospital to visit his ailing grandmother.

'What the fuck, Seunghyun?'  
  
When Jiyong finally manages to speak, it's more yelling than anything else, his arms flung out beside him. He says it twice for good measure, to make sure Seunghyun fully grasps the extent of his disbelief.  
  
'What am I _doing_ here?'

Seunghyun raises a brow and that's all he does for a minute. Jiyong can't tell if the look on his face is because of his question or the way it was delivered.

'I don't _know,'_ he answers. 'You tell me'.

Jiyong _tries_ not to be angry. He really does. Shouting in Seunghyun's face isn't liable to get him in the car but he can't help it. He can't help being angry because he shouldn't _be_ here. Instead of enjoying the last two days of their spontaneous vacation together, Hyeong-bae is at home (graciously believing his excuse of, _'a friend had an accident, I need to go to the hospital_ ), and he's _here,_ staring Seunghyun in the face, wondering why the universe won't let him stay away.  
  
'Your sister called. She asked me to come. She was very persuasive'.

Seunghyun tenses.

'And what did she ask you to do?'  
  
'Take you to the hospital,' Jiyong answers. 'Today. To see your grandmother, who is dying by the way. I thought you knew that'.

'I _know_ she's dying'.  
  
'No, she's _dying,'_ Jiyong stresses. 'As in she might not last the _day_. Your sister said your phone has been turned off. She thought you should know this is probably your last chance to see her'.

When Seunghyun answers, it's in an even measured tone and he seems okay or compartmentalised anyway _._

_'Alright'._

'Alright?' Jiyong asks. 'Are you going to _come with me_?'

The rest of the conversation seems so bizarre, it sort of --- snowballs.  
  
'I'm not going'.  
  
Jiyong makes a quiet sound of disbelief. He tries to find words good enough to express what he's thinking and feeling because _I’m not going?_ That's not right. Those aren't real words coming out of Seunghyun's mouth.  
  
'With me or at all?'  
  
'At all'.

'You're not _going?'_ Jiyong asks, disbelieving. ' _At all?_ To say goodbye to your grandmother before she _dies?'_

He wants to punch Seunghyun in the face, grab his hair and yank him down by the ears the way his father used to when he was young. He wants to shake some fucking sense into him but his thoughts change tack when Seunghyun looks up. He looks different. Vacant. Not just distant but emptied out, like every wall inside him is up now and every light turned off. Like his body is a fucking bomb shelter and the parts of him capable of feeling and connecting are so far down inside him, they might as well not be there.

'Can you just go home?' Seunghyun asks. 'This is none of your business'.

'Your sister _made_ it my business,' Jiyong answers, trying to quiet his nerves, 'and I'm glad she did frankly because now I know it's not just me. You're not just torturing me for the hell of it--- there's something wrong with you. If you could _see_ what I just saw you do, the way you just shut down--- Jesus Christ. I don't know what's wrong with you but enough is enough. You have to _stop_ this. You can't put up any more walls because _this is it_. Choosing to sit at home while your grandmother dies alone, wondering where you are? That's _enough_. Whatever is going on, you can't _do_ this today _'._  
  
Ignoring him completely, Seunghyun steps forward, so quickly Jiyong is startled by their sudden closeness.

 _'Go home,'_ he says. Not a request this time but an order.

His tone of voice makes the hairs on Jiyong's arm stand tall. It's almost threatening--- something Jiyong hasn't heard from him. Not in fifteen years of knowing him has Seunghyun _ever_ used that voice on him. For a moment he thinks about leaving but he _can't._ For Seunghyun to use that voice, he must have hit a nerve. Something he said made Seunghyun angry and at this point, any emotion is good. Any feeling at all is one step closer to getting Seunghyun out the door and this whole thing over with. So, Jiyong digs deep. He calls up all of his frustrations and anger and he tells Seunghyun what he needs to hear. The truth.

'You might be used to disappointing people now but you're not going to disappoint your dying grandmother, do you understand me? I am taking you to the hospital. Period'.  
  
He pushes back into Seunghyun's personal space.

'Whatever is going on with you, whatever is hurting you so much that you're shutting yourself away? Get over it. Just for one day, get over it, because you know what _really_ hurts? When people you love disappear from your life. I _know_ how much that hurts--- and that's what you're doing to her. You fucking love her, I know you do, but you're not _there_. It doesn't matter that she's loved you since the day you were born or that you loved her back because all she's going to know in her last moments is that you weren't fucking there. Whatever your problem is, there is nothing more important than making her feel loved. There is nothing more important than that. You go to that fucking hospital, walk into that room and tell her you love her. Nothing else matters'.

By the time Jiyong has finished his speech, his heart is pounding in his chest and his hands are shaking. Seunghyun is staring at the floor, his head so low Jiyong can't see his face. He can't see if what he's said has made a difference either way.

'Come with me, Seunghyun. Please. Grab your stuff and we'll go, alright? Whatever reason you won't go, we can fix it, but it has to be now. If you don't do this, you'll regret it for the rest of your life'.

Seunghyun stays where he is, rigid and closed up, his face towards the floor. He says under his breath, just loud enough for Jiyong to hear.  
  
'I can't'.  
  
_I can't, he says. I can't. I can't. I fucking can't._

Something in Jiyong snaps then. Some tenuous stretched out piece of him finally reaches its limit and simply breaks. A lifetime of frustration and disappointments condensed. He loses his mind in anger.

'I can't _do_ this!' he screams. 'I can't be expected to look after you, Seunghyun. _Fuck._ I love you. I want to be here for you, I want to understand you. I want to be your friend but everything is different now and I can't do it. I've said everything I can possibly say to you, I've done more than I ever should have and still, everything is horrible. It's fucking horrible being near you. I don't want to _be_ here anymore Seunghyun, _I don't want to be here_. Can't you just be okay? Can't you do what you're told so I can go home and forget about you and the way you are ruining _everything_ just by being here?'

Seunghyun looks up then, some of his walls taken down. He looks--- affected.

'Your sister asked me to take you to the hospital,' Jiyong says through grit teeth, 'and I promised her I would, so get your stuff and get in the fucking car because I don't have time for this. I don't have time for your bullshit. This isn't my job, Seunghyun. It's not my fucking job to babysit you or drive you around or give you pep talks or try to fix all of your fucking problems or figure you out. Get dressed, get your fucking stuff and get in the fucking car'.  
  
Before Seunghyun can say a word, Jiyong pushes past him. He throws open the heavy door and heads down the front steps two at a time until he's back at the car, in the drivers seat, clutching the steering wheel with trembling fingers and tears in his eyes.

Ten minutes later, dressed and silent, Seunghyun gets in beside him.

 

_*_

 

 

The ride to the hospital passes in merciful silence. Jiyong spends the twenty minutes fighting his own conscience, torn between believing everything he said and wanting to apologise for it. Either way, he stays silent. If being a monster asshole is what inspires action, that's what he'll be. He can't be responsible for Seunghyun missing this opportunity, even if he knows intellectually it's not his job either way. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't get him here.

Thankfully they make it all the way to the car park without Seunghyun trying to jump out on the freeway to escape. He parks as far back as he can get so the endless flow of traffic in and out of the building has less opportunity to spot them. The last thing either of them needs is someone recognising them or approaching them.

They sit in the car for a while in silence.

Jiyong hasn't allowed himself to look across for even one second. Not even when Seunghyun opened the door and climbed in did Jiyong look at him. He looks at him now though. He looks at his pale face and his vacant eyes and he feels bad for the things he said. He wants to take them back but he can't.

He can only try and be a friend.

'We have to go,' Jiyong says softly. 'I'm not going to let you sit here until visiting hours are over'.

He doesn't fully expect Seunghyun to answer him but he does. He actually seems okay. Sure, vacant and eerie and unpredictable maybe but he answers him. He sounds resigned to being here. Whatever was stopping him from coming on his own, he has no excuses now. He gives in.

'My family,' he says. 'They'll be in there. I can't talk to them'.

Knowing better, Jiyong doesn't ask why. He doesn't try to bring him around or make him see reason because whatever reason Seunghyun has for not wanting to see his family trumps common sense.

'Look, come in with me,' Jiyong says. 'I'll go ahead and check and if someone's there, I'll figure out a way to move them on, okay? Then you can go in alone. You don't have to see anybody else'.

Seunghyun looks across at him with this look on his face that reminds Jiyong of a child and he thinks--- maybe this is what Seunghyun is now. Whatever happened to him has changed him. He's reverted. He's gone the way he always did, inside himself. He's just gone deeper than usual.

'I _promise,_ ' Jiyong says. 'You won't have to see anyone'.

 

 

_*_

 

 

Mercifully, Seunghyun's mother isn't there when he reaches the floor. Neither is Seunghyun's sister or anyone else for that matter. He asks the nurse closest who tells him what family _are_ there are downstairs in the cafeteria. The only just left which gives Seunghyun not a lot of time but enough.

When Seunghyun is done questioning the very _same_ nurse, making sure his grandmother _is_ alone, he goes in. Just like that. He doesn't look at Jiyong before he goes, he doesn't ring his hands outside the door wondering what to say or do, he just finds the room and walks in.

Jiyong plants himself outside the door in a plastic chair that creaks when he leans back. He keeps his eyes on the end of the hallway. He's not sure what he'll do if he sees someone from Seunghyun's family but he knows he'll stop them somehow. He promised Seunghyun privacy, so he'll deliver, even if the whole thing does seem completely ridiculous. He got him here--- there are just _conditions._

He wonders why Seunghyun can't see anyone, if it's just embarrassment or shame that he couldn't come here on his own. He wonders why Seunghyun _didn't_ come. He has only had a few hours to wrap his head around that and there isn't a single reason he can think of for Seunghyun staying away.

When he went to see him, when he first found out about his grandmother--- Seunghyun was broken. Jiyong remembers the look on his face when he mentioned her. He sat beside him on that bed and told stories about her to distract him from his migraine. He pulled an old photo from a drawer and repeated things she had said that made him laugh, some of them Jiyong was lucky enough to be there for.

Two weeks ago Seunghyun was distant but _feeling?_ He cared. He was heart-broken. It seems impossible that he wouldn't come, that he wouldn't spend every spare second with her.

Now that he's finally able to take a breath Jiyong notices the difference, fully, between Seunghyun two weeks ago and Seunghyun today. Whatever his problem is, it's almost finished with him. When it's done, Seunghyun will be a lifeless husk on the floor, blind and deaf and mute.

Even now, after screaming his fucking lungs out in Seunghyun's face, the thought of losing him completely makes Jiyong's stomach hurt.

He tries not to think about it.

He passes the time watching people dart in and out of hallways. He counts the beats between one phone ringing and the next. In another room, heaving wet coughs leak out into the hallway and he cringes, sympathetic to their pain. He watches the clock tick over, one minute and then another until twenty minutes have elapsed and the door beside him is finally opening.  
  
He stands up so fast he kicks the chair back into the wall and almost falls back down.

Seunghyun has tears streaked down his face and Jiyong's heart aches for him. He looks _awful._ He seems so tired and gone he doesn't try to wipe his tears away or clean himself up. He just stands there, like he doesn't know what to do or where to go. He's like a child.

Jiyong takes his forearm and squeezes it gently.  
  
'Hyung? Are you--- what do you want to do? Do you want to stay?'  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
'You want to go?'  
  
He nods.  
  
That's all Seunghyun can do. Staring ahead into space, he's just nods and shakes and skin and bones.

 

 

_*_

  


Back in the car, Jiyong isn't sure what to do. It doesn't feel right to simply start the engine and drive away. In another life or with someone else he might be stupid enough to ask, _'are you okay?' -_ \-- that's just what people say, isn't it.

He doesn't ask. He just sits. He doesn't know how to do this. Their relationship is so _fucked up_ , he has no direction any more. He wonders if they sit here long enough, unmoving --- Seunghyun might say something? He might want to talk about what happened?

He doesn't.

Ten minutes go by in total silence until Jiyong is pressed against his door, sitting sideways on the seat, staring at the side of Seunghyun's head and he hasn't even noticed. Seunghyun is staring straight ahead, lost in space. Jiyong figures he probably shouldn't be there, alone in his head.

'Was she awake?' Jiyong asks, though he figures he knows the answer. At this stage, people are usually gone. Alive but gone.

Seunghyun surprises him by answering immediately. He turns his head so they're looking eye-to-eye and he says, 'No. She was gone'.  
  
_'Dead?'_ Jiyong cries.

Seunghyun smiles faintly at his reaction.  
  
'No,' he says. 'Just gone'.

Jiyong's mouth drops and like a child, he feels the water welling behind his eyes. He can't deal with these situations. He's a sympathy crier. He just has to hear about a sad situation and he'll cry.

Seunghyun isn't crying though. He takes a deep breath and looks around himself, at their surroundings outside the car--- like he's shaking it all off and starting a new day, putting this unhappy business behind him. For a moment he looks completely zen. He is smiling and calm and fully immersed in the world.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he's in pieces.

Seunghyun slumps down and cries--- and not just cries but _cries_. He bawls his eyes out. He cries like he's in pain, like a wounded animal, some primal note carried through the ages, he is completely broken.

His cries are so loud and so awful, Jiyong wonders if he should move the car-- if he shouldn't start driving so no-one will approach them, drawn by the sound of him--- but he doesn't drive. He can't. His own eyes are full of tears and before he can stop himself or wonder if it's alright to do it, he's got twenty things jabbing into him at all angles, just so he can move over beside Seunghyun; so he can hold him and kiss his hair and beg him to _stop crying_ because if he doesn't, he will literally _die_ , it is so unbearable.

_But he can't stop._

Seunghyun sits hunched over, his face buried in Jiyong's shirt, crying-- all Jiyong can do is cry himself, listening to the few words of Seunghyun's that get through, words that break his fucking heart all over again. Words like _disappointment,_ and _sorry. Couldn’t_ , and _why._

Over and over again, these words he hears the most until Seunghyun settles some and his words come a little easier, more together--- although Jiyong has tuned out because he had to.  He couldn't hold himself together if he listened to anymore–- _but something Seunghyun says_ \--  
  
Jiyong asks him to repeat himself.  
  
'What did you say?'  
  
'I'll tell you,' Seunghyun cries. 'If you want to know, I'll tell you'.  
  
'Tell me what?' Jiyong asks.  
  
_'Everything'._

 


	19. Chapter 19

  
 

'When I plug the phone back in, there will be a message from one of them saying she's dead. That's going to be weird, isn't it?' he asks. 'It's like _Schrödinger's_ cat. If they can't reach me, she's both alive and dead'.  
  
Despite everything that's happened, Jiyong's heart aches for him.  
  
Seunghyun takes a drag of his cigarette, oblivious to the growing ash. Jiyong watches, waiting for it to drop. The ashtray sits in Seunghyun's lap, ignored. It is only by divine intervention that his hand moves to the glass at the right moment each time.  
  
'Not really though, huh? She's dead,' Seunghyun says, as if coming to his senses. 'Just-- _dead_ '.  
  
'You don't know that'.  
  
'Yes, I do'.  
  
Ash falls from the end of Seunghyun's cigarette and lands right where Jiyong knew it would. He waits for him to notice it crumbling against his thigh but he doesn't. Seunghyun is stuck in his head.  
  
When the phone rang thirty minutes earlier, they were in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters, saying nothing. It was like being at a wake, Jiyong thought. He went to a wake once when he was seventeen. His girlfriend's uncle had died and she begged him to go, _'I can't do it on my own, I need you there'._ When they arrived, she left him to be with her family. He spent three hours in a stranger’s kitchen, sharing long silences with anyone who came in.  
  
When the phone rang the first time Jiyong tensed. Seunghyun didn't move, his face remained impassive. It was like he didn't hear it. The second call was the same. The third was different. When the phone broke the silence for the third time, Seunghyun moved, steady and calm. He looked ordinary, nondescript, like he was going to the bathroom or the lounge room to sit down. Jiyong imagined him flopping down and picking up the remote but he didn't do that.  
  
He went straight to the phone and pulled it out of the wall in one violent motion, setting it back down where it was as if nothing had happened. It wasn't enough to take the phone off the hook, he needed to be sure whoever it was couldn't reach him. If he didn't know for certain, then _it_ hadn't happened.  
  
Jiyong watched from the kitchen, eyes wide, knowing somewhere in the pit of his gut what Seunghyun must have known. One call didn't mean anything. Two was urgent. Three? His grandmother had died. An hour ago, Seunghyun was with her and she was alive but a lot can happen in an hour.  
  
Jiyong watched him plug the phone in when they first walked through the door. No matter how much Seunghyun wanted _not_ to know, he had plugged it back in after two weeks of hiding from his family, so he _would._ Jiyong supposed then, that he did.

Seunghyun retreated to the bedroom after that. He kicked his shoes off by the door and sat on what used to be Jiyong's side of the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. Not knowing what else to do, Jiyong followed him. He sat on the end of the bed with his legs crossed and watched Seunghyun smoke 6 cigarettes, one after the other.  
  
He is in the same spot now, watching the ash on Seunghyun's pants break apart.  
  
It's annoying.  
  
In a fit of frustration, he stretches across the space between them and brushes the ash away himself, plucking the cigarette from Seunghyun's lax fingertips. He takes a drag himself then stubs it out in the ashtray, putting both on the bedside table, out of reach.  
  
He has no desire to wake up in a burning inferno because Seunghyun is too blind to notice what he's doing with his cigarettes. Not to mention he's on his seventh in thirty minutes and even for Seunghyun, that's a disgusting amount. If he doesn't stop him, he'll die from lung cancer before Jiyong can even get off the bed.  
  
Robbed of his cigarette, Seunghyun barely seems to notice it's gone. If anything, without it to focus on, his attention shifts to the body at the end of his bed. He looks at Jiyong as if he just _materialised_ out of thin air.  
  
'Where have you been?' He asks suddenly.  
  
'Hm?'  
  
'Your clothes,' Seunghyun says, nodding to Jiyong's pants, 'and your face'.  
  
Jiyong touches his cheeks self-consciously.  
  
'What's wrong with my face?'  
  
‘You have wind burn or something'.  
  
Jiyong blushes and smooths a hand over his thigh, over the north face pants he was given for free when they went to New Zealand a million years ago.  
  
'I was in Jirisan,' he says. 'I was hiking'.  
  
'Alone?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Seunghyun winces briefly then pats around his pockets for his cigarettes. Jiyong watches him, stunned. It's like he doesn't remember the cigarette snatched from his hand twenty seconds ago. Like he hasn't had seven in the past thirty minutes, let alone an eighth. It's just second nature, when he gets stressed or upset he reaches for them. He can't face the world without them.  
  
Jiyong wonders how Seunghyun managed to quit while he was away. What kind of life was he living in Japan that he could go thirty minutes without a smoke, let alone weeks or months? He thinks about how little time it took for him to start up again once he got back.  
  
He tries to ignore Seunghyun's increasingly pathetic search until it looks like he might actually explode without a cigarette, then he relents. He points to the crumpled pack on the dresser and figures today, he'll look the other way. Seunghyun can smoke the whole damn pack and be done with it. He won't take any more from him. He'll leave him alone.  
  
Seunghyun lights up with visible relief.  
  
'You're outdoorsy now?' he asks after a time, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. With each drag he seems by degrees, restored. _Zen._  
  
'I just wanted to get away,' Jiyong answers gently.  
  
He doesn't have to say why. They both know what happened the last time he came here. In a million years he couldn't have seen this coming, couldn't have seen himself back here, on this bed, feeling _sorry_ for Seunghyun, wanting to comfort him and sweep all the painful memories under the rug.  
  
'You could have ignored my sister,' Seunghyun says, intuitively. 'You didn't have to come. I didn't expect to see you again after last time'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs in answer, not sure what to say one way or another. Standing at the base of a mountain with Hyeyoon’s desperate voice in his ear, he felt browbeaten, as if he had no choice, but Seunghyun is right. He didn't have to come. He could have conjured up a thousand excuses to stay away.  
  
'Would you have preferred I _didn't_ come?'  
  
He doesn't expect an honest answer and he doesn't get one. He doesn't get much of anything, just a knowing, fleeting look. Seunghyun takes a drag of his cigarette instead. Ash falls on the mattress and he tries distractedly to pick it up. It crumbles between his fingertips. Jiyong watches him run a hand over it, smearing grey into the sheets. He's like a child playing with his food, smearing mess everywhere, oblivious.  
  
Jiyong moves up the bed and plucks the ashtray off the bedside table, dropping it in Seunghyun's lap with mild annoyance.  
  
'Since when do you make such a mess?'  
  
He _shrugs._  
  
The silence resumes and Jiyong's mind wanders. He watches the cigarette between Seunghyun's fingers unconsciously and thinks of meaningless things. When his phone vibrates, it takes time for him to notice. He expects a message from Hyeong-bae but it's his sister asking to borrow a jacket he left at her place. He hasn't worn it for years. He texts back saying she can have it and slides the phone back into his pocket.  
  
When Jiyong notices him again, Seunghyun has a churlish look on his face he isn't trying hard enough to hide.  
  
'It was my sister, not ---'  
  
'Your partner?'  
  
Jiyong pulls a face and waves off his choice of words.  
  
'My _partner?_ What am I, forty-five?'  
  
'Boyfriend, then'.  
  
'Retired at twenty-seven,' Jiyong muses. 'I've led a good life. Nothing left now but to pack up my worldly possessions and move to the country with my _partner_ and our twenty cats. When I go, which can only be soon, make sure they hold a jesa for me every year'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly, 'Shut up'.  
  
Jiyong smiles involuntarily at the quiet chuckle. On a day like this, he didn't imagine that was possible.  
  
_'Partner,'_ Jiyong says quietly, incredulous. 'We’re not that old’.  
  
Seunghyun raises his hands in apology then does an awkward dance when ash from his cigarette lands in his crotch for the third time. He flicks it off and Jiyong rolls his eyes, trying not to snigger at his familiar stupidity.  
  
'How did you meet?' Seunghyun asks, brushing ash from his pants.  
  
'Hm?'  
  
'Your boyfriend. How did you meet?'  
  
Jiyong tenses and shrugs off the question. Even if he wanted to have this conversation, he wouldn't know how. He wouldn't know what truths to tell. How _did_ they meet? By a friend’s pool when he was thirteen or in a club on a night he was too drunk to remember? Neither are very good stories.  
  
'Are you happy?' Seunghyun asks. 'With him?'  
  
Jiyong clears his throat. He remembers laying on this bed two weeks ago, asking Seunghyun if he was seeing anyone. He asked for the truth not realising he didn't want it. _What are you doing?_ Seunghyun had asked. _We're just talking_.  
  
'What are you doing?' Jiyong asks quietly. 'Why are you asking me that?'  
  
Seunghyun stubs out his cigarette and shrugs, eyes watering minutely from the growing smoke in the room. He doesn't light another.  
  
'I just want to know if you're happy. I want to know if he's good to you. Does he love you?'  
  
Jiyong laughs but masks it as best he can, facing the wall for a time until he can speak without emotion in his voice. It isn't a difficult question to answer. He is happy, he is looked after, he is loved. He only has to say that but he can't.  
  
'I don't want to talk about this stuff with you'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Why _would_ I?'  
  
Seunghyun watches him searchingly until Jiyong can't stand it anymore. He slips off the bed and smiles gently in Seunghyun's direction, remembering that his grandmother is probably dead. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing. He doesn't want to become a part of the bad memory this day is sure to become in Seunghyun's life. All the same, this is too much. With everything that's going on, it doesn't feel right to talk about themselves or what happened or didn't happen between them—- what is and isn't happening between them now.  
  
He grabs the crumpled cigarette pack off the bed and gestures to the sliding doors leading to the balcony.  
  
'I'm going outside to have a smoke, okay? I'll be back in a minute'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and stays put when he moves to the balcony.  
  
It's a brief respite.  
  
Jiyong faces the breeze with his eyes shut tight and tries to draw out time, one slow second after another. One minute becomes two and then three until he has been outside for ten minutes, reluctant to leave the safety of them being apart. Eventually Seunghyun appears beside him, like Jiyong knew he would, his scrawny elbows against the railing. Jiyong hands his newly lit cigarette over and Seunghyun takes a drag.  
  
They stare out over the railing at the small patch of grass criss-crossed by pebbles and sandstone steps. There's a garden gnome shaded by one of the few trees in Seunghyun's yard. Jiyong thinks of asking about that but doesn't. They pass the cigarette between them in silence. It's not comfortable but it isn't _un_ comfortable.  
  
'When I left here last time,' Jiyong says after a while, 'After you and I slept together, he told me he loved me for the first time'.  
  
He isn't sure why he says that, it just slips out. Yes, he is happy. He is looked after. He is loved. He wonders what would change if Hyeong-bae knew about the growing list of lies he told.  
  
'What did you say?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'I said it back'.  
  
Seunghyun flips around so he's leaning with his back against the rail. He takes another drag of the cigarette and doesn't hand it back. Jiyong lets him keep it.  
  
'Did you mean it?'  
  
'I think so'.  
  
Seunghyun scrunches up his face and turns back around, blowing smoke down into the void, down towards the sandstone steps and the garden gnome in blue overalls. Jiyong wonders if he isn't making a mistake, saying so, but something tells him Seunghyun can take it. A part of him thinks Seunghyun might want the distraction.  
  
'Aren't you going to say you're happy for me?'  
  
'Nah'.  
  
Jiyong laughs and covers his mouth, surprised by the honesty of his answer.  
  
'Are you _not_ happy for me?'  
  
Seunghyun smiles easily, as if they don't have a complicated history; as if his grandmother isn't dead.  
  
'I want you to be happy,' he says. 'But I'd be happier if you just got another dog or something. I hear they're all the companionship you need. A few dogs, maybe a cat'.  
  
'I'll remember that sage advice'.  
  
'Good'.  
  
Seunghyun's gaze doesn't waver from the lawn below, his smile still there. Jiyong watches him for a while. He wonders what he's thinking about, staring into space. If he's thinking about his grandmother or doing everything possible not to. He wonders if he means what he says.  
  
'I hear Jindo are great dogs,' Seunghyun says after a while. 'Gentle and smart. Very Loyal'.  
  
'Oh yeah?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Well maybe I'll get one'.  
  
Seunghyun stubs out his cigarette on the railing and flicks the butt down onto the lawn below. Jiyong watches it fall and takes his chance.  
  
'Hey, why do you have a garden gnome?'  
  
'I have no idea. I think someone broke in and left it'.  
  
Jiyong laughs again, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.   
  
He feels guilty for that, for _laughing_ , for not encouraging Seunghyun to deal with what's happening. He has to plug the phone back in eventually, he should be prepared for that. He shouldn't be out here cracking jokes or trying to ask about his love life, he should be--- _what?_ Jiyong thinks. Crying? He cried enough in the car for five consecutive lifetimes, maybe Seunghyun _needs_ to be out here cracking jokes. He isn't the grief police, he doesn't know how you're supposed to handle these things. It probably doesn't matter. The dead stay dead. Nothing changes. If his grandmother really is being wheeled into a freezer, whether Seunghyun knows for certain, whether he deals with it or not--- that doesn't change.  
  
He doesn't want Seunghyun to be miserable. Maybe it's alright to pretend the people you love don't actually die--- to think you just haven't seen them in a while or haven't spoken to them in a few weeks. What's wrong with that? Maybe Seunghyun can live in that world for a while, one where his grandmother is at home and he can call her any time, he just chooses not to.   
  
'I am glad you came today and that I got to see her one last time,' Seunghyun says intuitively, reading his mind. 'Even if it was too late. You didn't have to come but you did. I'm grateful'.  
  
'It wasn't _too late_ ,' Jiyong answers, surprised as much by his frankness as the words themselves.  
  
'Yes it was'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't sound self-pitying or morose when he says that. He actually seems calm and rational, which makes his words seem all the more sad. He believes them completely. He believes it was too little, too late. Twenty-eight years of loving his grandmother just weren't as important as not being there at the end. Not being there somehow undid it all.  
  
'She would have died thinking I didn't care,' he says. 'Those things you said to me earlier were true'.  
  
Jiyong frowns and castigates himself for being so stupid, for saying all the harsh things he did when Seunghyun wouldn't go to the hospital with him; for meaning them at the time because he didn't know any better.  
  
_(( It doesn't matter that she's loved you since the day you were born or that you loved her back because all she's going to know in her last moments is that you weren't fucking there. ))_  
  
'Jesus, Seunghyun, I didn't mean any of those things I said. I was angry. I was just trying to get you in the car. She loved you and you loved her. That doesn't go away because you didn't get to say a proper goodbye. Whatever your reasons were for staying away, she would have understood. You went and _saw_ her today. I don't know what you did in there but it mattered to you and it would have mattered to her. It wasn't too late'.  
  
Seunghyun gives a little smile, as if to say, _thank-you for lying to me, but it's not necessary_. He folds his arms across his chest and leans back into the railing.  
  
'She could read you like a book,' Jiyong says gently. 'She probably knew you better than you knew yourself. Don't think you disappointed her for one second, because I know better and so do you'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and Jiyong sees in the catching light, his eyes glisten and his jaw tighten.  
  
'It seems funny now'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'What you said. She could read me like a book. That's why I didn't go see her,' Seunghyun says, turning his head. 'She would have done that spooky, _reading-my-mind_ thing and I didn't want her to. I didn't want her last memory of me to be---'  
  
'What?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and gestures towards himself.  
  
'This,' he says.  
  
Jiyong wonders what he means by that, what _this_ means. What is he? Disappearance and attitude adjustment aside, Seunghyun is fundamentally the same person he always was. The same person his grandmother loved from nappies to Prada suits.  
  
'She would have known,' Seunghyun says, frustrated. 'She could do that. She could look into my head and _know_ and I hated that. I fucking _hated_ it. She would have _done_ that to me. Of all the people in my life, I didn't want her to know'.  
  
'Know _what?'_  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer. He just closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath. When he's finished, he looks alright. Composed. He folds his arms over his chest and turns so they're facing one another.  
  
'I don't know if you remember,' Seunghyun says, 'last year, I went to see her around April or May. She said---'  
  
'You had a drinking problem,' Jiyong finishes. 'I remember'.  
  
Seunghyun's grandmother had this _intuition_ that went beyond the usual benefit of wisdom and experience and strongly veered towards mentalist territory. Jiyong had told her jokingly on one of the few occasions they met, she could have been a career detective. She could take one look at you and _know_ what you were thinking, what was going on in your life, if you were dating, if you were having problems. Hell, she probably saw strangers on the street and knew how they were going to die. It was a bizarre parlour trick she didn't pull out very often--- but with Seunghyun, she didn't pull any punches.  
  
He would come home after visiting her, time and time again, frustrated and bottled up because she had said something, or intuited something about him he didn't want her (or anyone) to know.  
  
Jiyong remembers vividly the time he came home after that visit and said, _'She told me I have a drinking problem'._  
  
Jiyong had felt something then, in his gut. Some stifled concern he had kept locked away, suddenly sprung from its cage because his grandmother had said it--- she had intuited it, and in a way, that was all the confirmation Jiyong needed.  
  
He had asked Seunghyun, _'Do you?'_ expecting nothing in response, but Seunghyun had thrown his arms up in frustration and answered, 'I don't know! Maybe! She's usually right!'  
  
Then he shut himself away and Jiyong couldn't ever find a way to talk about that or what she had said and what he had admitted--- because Seunghyun had been drinking since he was a teenager. He was high functioning. It was hard to find a way to sit him down and say, ' _Maybe you should stop_ '.  
  
Seunghyun stands there now, nodding slowly.  
  
'That's the one,' he says, recollecting the same memories. 'She was right about that, by the way'.  
  
'About the drinking?' Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Jiyong wants to say, ' _I know'_ but he doesn't because that would be an admission of failure on his part. A failure to help Seunghyun the way he should have because he loved him and you're supposed to do that for the people you love.  
  
Latent guilt makes his stomach ache.  
  
Silence grows between them again, not comfortable or _un_ comfortable, but the kind in between. Jiyong tries to think of something to say, some way of broaching what Seunghyun began, but he can't settle on one question, one shared memory, one anything. His mind jumps from pieces of conversations to guilt about not being a better boyfriend, to frustration and anger about things that stopped mattering a long time ago. In the end, Seunghyun breaks the silence.  
  
'I _am_ happy for you,' he says. 'If you're happy. If this guy you're dating loves you and you love him back, then I'm happy for you. Whatever you have to do, and whoever you do it with, I just want you to be okay'.

Blindsided by the sudden change in topic, Jiyong mumbles out a confused, 'Why?'  
  
He doesn't know why he asks that, it's a stupid fucking question. Even now, resentment aside, he wants the same for Seunghyun. He wants him to be happy. He would find a way to be happy for him if their roles were reversed.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
'If I went away, I'd want to know you were okay. That you had a good life. It seems like you do'.  
  
'I guess'.

  
Jiyong pulls the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and places one between his lips, desperate for a smoke, desperate for something to do, for some excuse to stop speaking, to put a pin in all this sharing. With the lighter beneath the end of his cigarette, he pauses. He stays there, unmoving, just for a moment, playing back their last exchange, before he drops his lighter hand, cigarette unlit. He pulls the smoke from between his lips and flicks it off the balcony.  
  
'Are you _leaving_ again?’  
  
'I didn't say that'.  
  
'You didn't _have_ to'.  
  
Jiyong takes a step back and runs his hands through his hair, trying to find the words to express the extent of his disbelief and disappointment and all the other aches he suddenly feels but doesn't understand.  
  
'I don't even know why you left the first time and already you're---'  
  
He stops himself. It shouldn't matter where Seunghyun goes. A few hours ago he was finished with this bullshit. He stood in this apartment and yelled at him, _'you are ruining everything just by being here,'_ and he had meant it.  
  
All the same.  
  
'Don't you dare,' Jiyong says quietly, surprised by the words coming out of his own mouth. 'Don't you dare leave me again. Not without telling me why you left the first time or why you think you have the right to do it again'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and gives a wan little smile.  
  
'I was miserable,' he says. 'That's why I left'.  
  
It comes out so easily, so clear and uncomplicated, it seems a little unreal, like Jiyong imagined it, like he heard it on the wind or in his head. He put the words in Seunghyun's mouth but he didn't actually _say_ them, not really, because after fourteen months of heartache--- the answer isn't that simple. The answer isn't, _'I was miserable'._  
  
And yet it is.  
  
Seunghyun explains himself as succinctly as anyone could, in a voice so plain he must have rehearsed the words a thousand times. With a look of resignation, he stands there, open and honest and tells Jiyong the truth.  
  
'I was miserable and I was struggling so I got on a plane and I tried to disappear. That's it,' he says. 'I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you something more exciting or sympathetic. I wish I had a better reason for hurting you’.  
  
_I was miserable and I was struggling so I got on a plane and I tried to disappear. That's it._  
  
That's it, Jiyong thinks. That's it?  
  
'I hope you're going to elaborate,' he says quietly, 'because _I was miserable_ doesn't answer any of my questions or excuse what you did'.  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers. 'It doesn't--- but I'll tell you whatever you want to know'.  
  
Jiyong has to clear his throat three times before he can speak clearly.  
  
'When? Now?'  
  
'If you want'.  
  
He _doesn't_ want, not really. Pulled from a holiday with his current boyfriend to drag his ex-boyfriend to a hospital to see a dying relative, who most likely _did_ die, then plonked here on a balcony with Seunghyun saying, ' _I'll tell you whatever you want to know,'_ like all of a sudden, it's that easy.  
  
Forget the months he's been back, silent and sullen and arrogant with his, ' _You don't want to know and I don't want to tell you's'_. Now is apparently when this needs to happen, when Seunghyun needs to unburden himself and Jiyong has to listen.  
  
_Today._  
  
'We don't have to do this now. You have bigger _concerns_ ,' Jiyong says carefully. 'I can wait for this conversation'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and folds his arms across his chest.  
  
'I know, but I can't,' he says.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Because she's _dead_ ,' Seunghyun says through grit teeth. 'Because she's dead and I loved her and she didn't _know_ that and you're _not_ dead. You're right here and If I die tomorrow, you won't know. You won't know what happened or what I did or how important you were. You won't _know_ ,' he says.  
  
'But you're not going to _die_ tomorrow,' Jiyong snaps. 'And neither am I, so this doesn't need to happen right now. I don't want to do this right now---' his voice breaks and he looks over the balcony trying to calm down.  
  
He doesn't know why but he suddenly feels ill. He doesn't want Seunghyun to look at him the way he just did or speak to him the way he just did. He doesn't want life changing information or the kind of secrets you want people to know in case one of you _dies_. He doesn't _want_ that.  
  
He thought he did but he doesn't.  
  
' _Please,'_ Seunghyun says gently.  
  
Jiyong growls, frustrated. He wraps his arms tightly around himself.  
  
'What am I supposed to do?' he asks, voice rising, surprised by his sudden emotion. 'Are you going to start from the top or do I have to ask you _questions_? Should I ask you about the day you ran away? Should I ask you about the phone call at Christmas or the people you fucked or the fact you didn't call me when you came back? How many questions do I get to _ask_ you?'  
  
He stomps his foot like a petulant child, frustrated and upset because this whole thing won't ever end, won't _allow_ itself to end. He'll have to dredge up these feelings again and again for the rest of his life and that's what they are--- _feelings_. They aren't bad memories or old grudges, they're raw open wounds that keep getting prodded and jabbed and reopened.  
  
With his eyes on the ground, he's mortified to see a tear hit the concrete below him. He wipes his face roughly and stomps his feet all over again.  
  
_'Fuck'._  
  
Seunghyun waits a respectable amount of time to answer, his voice calm and careful when he does.  
  
'You don't have to ask me questions. Either way, I don't think I can tell the story out here on the balcony'.  
  
_I was miserable and struggling and I tried to disappear_.  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes and shivers against the afternoon breeze. He doesn't want to go inside. He doesn't want to sit down and have Seunghyun start explaining himself with a steady, _'It all started when...'_ because then it will _happen._

He doesn't want _It_ to happen. He wants to be angry and indignant and _right_. He wants his feelings to be justified. If they go inside, Seunghyun will _talk_ and it will all be taken away from him; the righteous indignation won't seem so fair any more. Seunghyun will talk about being miserable and Jiyong will have lightbulb moments of clarity knowing he recognised the signs and didn't do anything, the way he ignored Seunghyun's drinking problem and a dozen other things he knew were bad, but were at the same time too hard and too scary for him to really acknowledge.  
  
Like---  
  
'The pills you said were for your allergies, even though I _knew_ you didn't have any---' Jiyong says, remembering a confrontation between them long forgotten.  
  
'They were antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds or something the Doctor prescribed me'.  
  
'I guess they didn't work,' Jiyong says knowingly.  
  
'Not really, no'.  
  
Jiyong laughs, mortified, and covers his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
He doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want to hear this. Every second that goes by, he will remember things he buried, signs big and small that Seunghyun wasn't okay. Seunghyun's explanation for fucking off will be one thing after another, one moment after another where Jiyong could have said something or _done_ something to help him but _didn't._ _  
_  
He remembers now, the exact moment Seunghyun _broke_ in his apartment. He remembers knowing so clearly at the time that he was in trouble. The look on Seunghyun's face--- there wasn't anything else it could have been. He was just hopelessly sad.   
  
And what did I do? Jiyong thinks.  
  
_Nothing._  
  
Seunghyun was right there, broken and he did nothing. He let him go. And after that? He just forgot about the look on Seunghyun's face. He _chose_ to forget. When Seunghyun was truly gone, it was easier to make his disappearance about himself; to think _'It must be me. I talk too much, I'm too bossy, I'm selfish, I'm not enough for him,'_ because the alternative was too much.  
  
The alternative was that he _let_ Seunghyun go without a fuss. That he wasn't there when he needed him. He had a dozen opportunities to help Seunghyun and he didn't because he was embarrassed, because he was scared, because it all seemed big and scary and hard and it was easier to look the other way every time he sensed trouble. Because he loved Seunghyun too much to let something inconvenient like depression or a drinking problem get in the way of their perfect, happy life.  
  
Standing on this balcony with Seunghyun looking at him in this desperate way, begging to tell him all about his misery--- Jiyong hates himself.  
  
He failed Seunghyun. He failed their entire relationship, fifteen years of friendship and five years of loving him the way he had never loved anyone else. He let Seunghyun down.  
  
All those months of heartache, of feeling abused and betrayed and broken; of thinking ' _He left me, he never gave a shit'---_ It was easier to feel that way than think he allowed Seunghyun to leave. That he didn't give enough of a shit about _him_ to follow him or try and stop him. He didn't even _try_ to find him. The most he could manage was a phone call three months after the fact and what was Seunghyun doing in that time? Fucking strangers and god knows what else.  
  
Jiyong physically deflates and lowers his gaze from Seunghyun's.   
  
_Jesus Christ_ , he thinks. _What sort of person am I._

'Okay,' he says quietly, eventually, resignedly. ' _Okay._ Let’s go inside. Tell me everything'.  
  
_We'll pretend I don't already know._

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

  
  
  
'I guess it started in February maybe, or March'.  
  
That's what Seunghyun says when they first sit down. That's when it started. That's how long he lasted. Six months. The protracted illness before he disappeared. He says, 'I've always had it, just never for so long'.  
  
_It_ being something that creeps up on him unsuspecting and takes him over for a few days, at worst a few weeks. On and off, he's had it for most of his life. It means sometimes he wakes up feeling empty and sad and that's all there is to it. Nothing causes it. Nothing fixes it. It's just a part of life he grew used to. It comes and it goes.  
  
Only, last time it didn't go away.  
  
Like every other time, he woke up and felt different. He felt miserable without cause. He slept, he drank, he cried. Seunghyun slipped into one of the depressive phases Jiyong has only glimpsed over their fourteen years of friendship and he never came out of it. When it lingered, he learned how to hide it. He lived with it.   
  
With Seunghyun perched on the end of the bed, Jiyong sits apart from him in a chair covered in dress shirts and worn sweaters. He listens to Seunghyun talk about _it_ in vague terms, knowing there were moments before those six months when he'd seen it for himself; like the Christmas when he found him spaced out in his apartment instead of with his family where he was supposed to be.  
  
It took him days to pull Seunghyun out of that, and for each of those days he felt helpless. When Seunghyun wasn't staring into space or drinking or smoking, he was crying his eyes out.  
  
That Christmas was bad. It should have been a warning but Jiyong wanted to believe that when it was over, it was over. It was an isolated incident, not part of something greater. When Seunghyun laughed again, when he smiled again, the crisis was over. Their lives went back to normal. He should have seen the signs for what they were. As wilfully ignorant as he was, this wasn't unforeseen. He let it happen. He let Seunghyun wallow in misery for months on end until he couldn't bear it any more.  
  
He sits with his arms around his knees and wonders how Seunghyun managed to hide the worst of it.   
  
The episodes he saw over the years, that Christmas and a dozen instances like it when Seunghyun simply stopped functioning; when they would find him in the bathtub hiding or not find him at all--- those were big things. Those were a clarion call signalling, _'Hey, I've got problems! I'm not doing so good!'_  
  
The last six months weren't like that. Seunghyun drank more, he wanted to go out less, he was quieter but he wasn't like _that._ He wasn't two steps from comatose and screaming into his fists. At least not when Jiyong was around.   
  
He thought Seunghyun was having bad days, bad weeks, off moments here and there but _this?_ The same thing that made him hide in bathrooms when they were younger and sob uncontrollably during the holidays?  
  
'How did you hide this from me?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Because he must have. The extra glasses of wine, the fewer words, the longer silences didn't add up to the agony of that one Christmas or any of the times Jiyong found him in a similar state. In the grips of _'it,'_ the big bad. The monster under the bed. Never for a second did Jiyong think it was so bad.  
  
' _Why_ did you hide it from me?'   
  
'I was embarrassed,' Seunghyun answers. 'I thought it would go away. It always did. I just had to wait it out. That way, you wouldn't have to know what was going on or what I was doing when you weren't around'.  
  
'What _were_ you doing when I wasn't around?'  
  
'Drinking,' Seunghyun shrugs. 'Sleeping. If you weren't around, I didn't do anything. If you were away for a few days, I would sleep. I would sleep sixteen or eighteen hours a day if I had nothing to do. If I couldn't, I would lay in the dark until I was tired again or I drank to speed up the process or I took sleeping pills'.  
  
Sixteen to Eighteen hours a day is a lot. Jiyong can count the number of times he's slept that long on one hand. If he hadn't slept for _three days_ or had been on a succession of long flights, maybe _then_ he could lose an entire day sleeping. But every day? Most of the time? Sixteen to Eighteen hours seems _impossible._  
  
All the same, Jiyong can remember, a dozen times or more, the two of them saying goodbye from Seunghyun's bed in those last few months. If he was going away for a few days, he would lean down and kiss Seunghyun. He would say _'talk to you later,'_ and that was that. Seunghyun would stay in bed.  
  
It didn't seem strange at the time. If anything, it felt natural and comfortable; they were secure. That there might be something going on never really occurred to him.   
  
Years ago, when he would pack his bags for a trip or a few weeks back home, Seunghyun would become his shadow, trying to help but always getting in the way, like a well meaning child. Somehow, Jiyong didn't notice when that stopped. He didn't pay enough attention to the changes--- that all of a sudden, instead of following him around, Seunghyun would throw the blankets over his face instead and hunker down.   
  
Seunghyun staying in bed when it came time to say goodbye just seemed like a quirk he had adopted, not something to worry about. It was just another of his idiosyncrasies.   
  
'You drank and slept?' Jiyong asks. 'If I wasn't around, that's all you did? It _can't_ have been that bad, I would have known. There's no way you could hide that from me'.  
  
Even as he says the words, his stomach turns with accusations. _How many times did you look the other way? He couldn't have hidden that. You chose not to see it._  
  
Seunghyun gestures frustratedly with his hand, ringing his fingers near his head, trying to explain something he can't quite get a hold of.  
  
'I don't remember what I was doing when you weren't around. If you weren't there, if I wasn't asleep, I was drunk. I couldn't get through the day unless I was drunk. I can't give you more than that because I don't remember what I did with my time. I only remember bits and pieces. I've lost things, lost time. Drinking and sleeping is all I remember'.  
  
Jiyong cradles his head in his hand and wonders how Seunghyun could _survive_ six months of heavy drinking, when on a good day, his drinking already constituted a problem.  
  
'I knew you were drinking more than usual, but not _that_ much, Seunghyun. I would have noticed if you were drunk 24/7'.  
  
_I would have done something. Wouldn't I?_  
  
'I didn't _do_ it when you were around'.  
  
'Why not?' Jiyong asks. 'If you had to be drunk all the time, what difference did it make if I was with you?'  
  
Seunghyun winces briefly, like he's had a thought that’s physically hurt him to exist. He leans back a little and his body slackens.  
  
'I didn't feel as bad when you were with me,' he answers gently. 'I didn't need to drink so much'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Because I loved you,' he shrugs. 'Because when everything else I cared about stopped mattering, when I couldn't get out of bed or see the point of it, when I didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone or do anything, I still loved you. When this fucking thing,' he gestures frustratedly with his hands, 'took _everything_ from me, you were still there and I could still see you and want you and feel something for you'.  
  
Jiyong winces, unprepared. To think in Seunghyun's worst moments, he was some kind of respite makes his guilt all the heavier. If he was _it_ for Seunghyun, then there were so many things he could have done. He could have made all the difference in the world if he had noticed what was going on.  
  
'This thing took everything from me,' Seunghyun says. 'I woke up one day and all the things I loved meant nothing to me. Have you ever felt that way? One day you love something and can't imagine your life without it and the next day it's gone'.  
  
Jiyong felt that way when Seunghyun disappeared. He knows that feeling. It was such a vague and relentless emptiness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fill it.  
  
'That happened to me overnight. Friends, family, music, art, acting. Everything that made my life worthwhile. I woke up one day and those things were _nothing_. They didn't matter anymore. They were alien to me and I couldn't get them back,' Seunghyun says. 'And I was patient. I waited'.  
  
'But it never got better?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'No'.  
  
Seunghyun clears his throat and talks carefully, in a measured tone, like he's rehearsed his words a thousand times.  
  
'Every day that I woke up, I was disappointed,' he says, trying to explain. 'I had no reason for getting out of bed because nothing mattered any more. All I had left was you, so if you weren't with me, why bother? I drank and slept'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs helplessly and his eyes gloss over.  
  
_'_ It was painful to exist'.  
  
Jiyong winces and brings a hand to cover his eyes like there's a sudden glare in the room.  
  
'But you know,' Seunghyun says, 'when I was drunk or with you, I was okay. If you cared about something, I cared about it too. So I tried to be around you as much as possible and when I couldn't, I drank until I felt better or until I passed out. Whichever happened first'.  
  
Jiyong winces again at the callousness in Seunghyun's voice, at the casual way he can say things like that. That he drank until it felt better or until he passed out, like either of those things are normal.  
  
'And I did that for as long as I could,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'But you _left,'_ Jiyong answers, his hand still over his face.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Why?' Jiyong asks, keening. 'I don't understand. If you had this thing, if it wasn't going away, if it was getting harder for you, why wouldn't you tell me? If you felt better when you were _with_ me, why didn't you stay? How could you put up with this shit for months on end and not _tell_ me? You didn't think I could help you? You didn't think It would be better for you if somebody knew?'  
  
Seunghyun exhales loudly through his nose, a very adult sigh. Jiyong can see him, even with his face covered.  
  
'I tried to tell you a few times'.  
  
'But? _'_  
  
'You were happy _,'_ Seunghyun answers.   
  
Like that's an explanation.  
  
'You think telling me you were in trouble would have fucked up my life somehow?' Jiyong intuits.  
  
He pulls the hand from his eyes. Seunghyun has a long face and the exact posture he imagined. For the first time, Jiyong doesn't feel sorry for him. Instead, he wants to break his nose for being so stupid. For thinking in that self-sabotaging way Seunghyun sometimes tried to wreck things.  
  
'Let me tell you what fucked up my life,' he says emotionally. 'You disappearing without a thought or a word for twelve months. That's what did it. I don't understand you. We were together for five fucking years, Seunghyun. What were you afraid of?'  
  
'You would have been miserable'.  
  
_'So what?'_ Jiyong gestures, throwing a hand out. 'So fucking what?'   
  
If he could go back and change things, he would choose a lifetime of misery over Seunghyun leaving. Even miserable and bitter and angry, Seunghyun should have _been_ there, depressed or not, drowning or otherwise. He could have pushed him away every day and Jiyong wouldn’t have stopped loving him.  
  
_You would have been miserable_ is the worst excuse imaginable. It makes Jiyong want to scream, like there isn't a version of this story in which he isn't responsible one way or another.  
  
Seunghyun gives a sympathetic frown and clears his throat.  
  
'A few weeks before I left, I showed up on your doorstep. Do you remember that?'  
  
Jiyong wracks his brain but he doesn't. Seunghyun's disappearance seemed to erase the preceding weeks. Like the drawback before a tsunami, Jiyong's memories receded and he never got them back. Either way, he can count the number of times Seunghyun showed up at his apartment on the one hand. For whatever reason, Jiyong always went to him. It just didn't happen the other way around.  
  
'I'd had a bad day,' Seunghyun shrugs. 'Worse than usual. I cried for hours, until my throat was raw and my muscles hurt. I'd never cried like that before, not in my whole life. I don't remember what happened either. Probably nothing? I think I went to get a bottle of water and that was that. I sat on the kitchen floor and cried like a baby. Nothing caused it'.  
  
Seunghyun's fingers shake in his lap.  
  
'So, when it was over, I went to see you,' he continues, drawing himself up. 'It was late, maybe midnight. I got in a cab and I went to your place'.  
  
Jiyong has a feeling that in this memory he doesn't have, it was raining. Seunghyun was wet when he opened the door, his fringe plastered over his face.  
  
'We sat on the lounge, you pulled my head in your lap. You ran your fingers through my hair and asked me what was wrong,' Seunghyun says, smiling.   
  
Jiyong stomach drops.   
  
He can feel Seunghyun's hair between his fingertips. He can see his own hands wiping drops of rain from his forehead. He can feel the damp patch still on the lounge three days later from his wet clothes.  
  
'I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how,' Seunghyun says, his voice wavering slightly. 'It seemed like the perfect moment. All the lights were off except what was coming from the TV. You were saying all the right things. It was the right moment to tell you but I didn't. I couldn't. It was all there, stuck in my throat but every time I opened my mouth, there was nothing. I couldn't do it'.  
  
Jiyong remembers.  
  
He remembers Seunghyun's wet hair and his red eyes and the way he moved, like he hadn't slept for days. He remembers the way his throat bobbed in the dim light, constantly swallowing like there was something stuck. He kept clearing his throat and touching his forehead like he was ill, but he wasn't. He was fitful and restless and he moved like if he stayed still for five minutes, he would die.  
  
Jiyong remembers.  
  
'We went to bed and you threw an arm over me,' Seunghyun says, his voice breaking, 'and you kept saying things, like--- _'it's going to be alright, whatever it is. I love you,'_ Then it was midday,' he says, 'and you were standing in the doorway watching me, like you had been there for hours waiting for me to wake up. You asked me if I felt _better'_.  
  
Jiyong remembers. He _was_ standing there, worried, watching Seunghyun sleep with a sick feeling in his gut. He woke up hours before Seunghyun and no matter where in the apartment he went, he kept coming back to the bedroom door; checking in, making sure he was still there, that nothing had happened to him.  
  
'I wanted to tell you,' Seunghyun says, 'but I could see in your face how much you _needed_ me to say yes. You needed me to tell you I was okay, that I felt better, that whatever was wrong just wasn't a problem any more'.  
  
Jiyong wipes his eyes, clouding over with threatening tears. He feels such a violent surge of guilt and remorse, he bows forward in his chair. He knew something was wrong. He felt it in his bones but a few assurances from Seunghyun and he let it go. There were so many times he should have pressed him, should have held him down and forced him to talk. Saying I love you wasn't enough. He feels such a bitter surge of anger towards himself and all the ways he failed.  
  
'It was _my_ fault?' Jiyong asks quietly, a tear rolling down his face. 'Because of what I said? Because of what I did?'  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers, 'Of course not. You were worried _._ You wanted everything to be okay but it wasn't. I didn't want to ruin everything. I didn't want to make you miserable. I didn't want our relationship to change. I didn't want you to feel like you had to look after me. I loved you. I don't know what I was thinking, I just didn't want you to know. At the time, it seemed like the better choice'.  
  
Jiyong moves to speak but Seunghyun holds a hand up to stop him.  
  
'Nothing you said or did would have made a difference. I was done,' Seunghyun says. 'That night was the first time I really thought _maybe I won't be okay. Maybe this is it. Maybe I won't get my life back._ I didn't just think it, I realised it. I believed it. Things weren't going to change for me. It had lasted too long, things were getting too bad, too quickly’.  
  
Jiyong stays silent.  
  
'So, I went home and I booked a flight,' Seunghyun continues, 'because I had had enough. I was tired of pretending that I was okay. I was tired of being hopeful about tomorrow _._ I was tired of disappointing you. I was tired of everything. I was fucking _tired._ I should have told you I was going, I meant to. I thought up a thousand excuses that wouldn't worry you. Then it was your birthday and I still hadn't told you. We were walking up the stairs in your building and you were talking about the holidays we were going to take and I just---'  
  
‘You never _disappointed_ me,' Jiyong cuts in. 'Why would you think that?'  
  
'Because it was true,' Seunghyun answers. 'You were stuck at home all the time because I didn't want to go anywhere. You were always saying, _'It doesn't matter'_ every time I shot down your plans. I was boring. You would make passing comments about how grumpy I was. You must have called me a grinch a thousand times in those last few months and you were right. I was'.  
  
Jiyong is so momentarily stunned, he sits there with his mouth agape, staring at Seunghyun in total confusion. For the first time since he sat down, he feels genuine hurt and real anger. He pulls out a sweater he's been sitting on and throws it, balled up, at Seunghyun's face. It unravels before it hits him, landing gently in his lap.  
  
'You _idiot_ ,' Jiyong snaps. 'I wasn't _stuck_ at home when you didn't want to go out. I wasn't tethered to you. If I wanted to go somewhere, I would. And you know why I said, _'It didn't matter,'_ if you didn't want to go somewhere and we stayed at home? Because it didn't fucking matter'.  
  
Seunghyun moves to speak but Jiyong stops him with a piercing look.  
  
'I fucking loved you. I loved sitting at home with you, I loved laying in bed with you. I didn't care if we went out or not, I just wanted us to do it together. And I've been calling you a grinch for ten fucking years. If I called you that, it wasn't because you suddenly became a boring old man, it was just something I said. It didn't mean anything. Don't tell me some thoughtless words said in passing made you feel like you were a disappointment? Don't tell me some bullshit I don't even remember doing made you want to leave'.  
  
_Don't tell me._  
  
He can't stomach the thought of some childish taunt he's been using mindlessly for years on end becoming fuel in the fire of Seunghyun's delusions. He doesn't want some careless word to have contributed to Seunghyun's decision.  
  
Seunghyun laughs in a sad kind of way and turns his face toward the ground until Jiyong can see nothing of him but the top of his head and his growing, messy hair.  
  
'No. Look, it wasn't about you or anything you said or didn't say,' he says tiredly. 'I was just done. I wanted it to stop and it wouldn't and I didn't know what else to do. I thought going away and being somewhere else or being somebody else might fix it. You were just an easy excuse sometimes. All the reasons I had for going that were about you--- I invented them after the fact because it was easier to think I had done what I did to benefit you'.  
  
'Did it help?' Jiyong asks quietly. 'Going away?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and clasps his hands together in his lap.  
  
'No'.  
  
'So it was all for nothing?'  
  
Seunghyun raises his head and Jiyong sees his eyes are shining in the fading afternoon light.  
  
'Yeah,' he says. 'I guess so'.

And just like that, nothing has changed.  
  
Jiyong remembers first seeing Seunghyun two months ago with a shaved head and frail body. He remembers his pale skin and the mid-life crisis car. He remembers Seunghyun kissing him, desperate for physical affection, whispering _'I want to be alone'._  
  
Japan didn't help him at all.   
  
Everything they've been through was for nothing.  
  
Almost on cue, Seunghyun shrugs and says, 'I'm okay,' as if saying that aloud might make it true.  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer, he just shakes his head because even after all of this, Seunghyun hasn't learned his lesson. He would still rather deal with his shit alone than ask for help. What was he _doing_ for those twelve months if he came back no better? Jiyong still has a thousand questions that need answers.  
  
'Why didn't you talk to me at Christmas?' he asks pointedly. 'When I rang you and said all those things, why didn't you answer me? What were you doing?'  
  
Seunghyun grimaces and folds his hands in his lap.  
  
'I couldn't talk to you. I couldn't call you. I tried a hundred times. When I landed, I called you from the airport but hung up. I did that every day for three weeks. It would ring once or twice and I'd hang up'.  
  
'Why?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'I don't know,' he shrugs. 'I guess I was scared, embarrassed, guilty. It was easier to say every day, _'I'll call tomorrow. I'll fix it tomorrow'_.  
  
'But you never did'.  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers. 'After a few weeks I thought enough was enough. How could I call you after that? I ran away and didn't say a word to you. What could I say after that? Why would you listen? I figured it was hopeless. The damage was already done. Thinking I could ever fix it was a waste of time'.  
  
Jiyong cradles his head in his palm, stunned at the depths of Seunghyun's stupidity. He wonders if it was the depression, making him believe the unbelievable.  
  
'It was never too late,' he says quietly. 'You could have called me any day for months and I would have begged you to come home. Hell, I would have taken the next flight to wherever you were. I would have forgiven you in a second'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I loved you,' Jiyong answers. 'I just wanted you back. I didn't care what happened, as long as you came back. I didn't want to live without you. I didn't know how much I needed you until you were gone. I was a _mess._ It would _embarrass_ you to know how quickly I fell apart without you'.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and looks down into his lap, his long face pale in the afternoon light.   
  
'The other week,' he starts, 'when we were fighting, you said you got sick. You said you almost died. Was that real?'  
  
'We're talking about you,' Jiyong frowns. 'Not me'.  
  
Seunghyun looks at him dolefully.  
  
'Can you just tell me what happened? I want to know what you were talking about'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I keep thinking about it,' Seunghyun answers honestly. 'And I need to know what happened so I can stop picturing your cold dead body'.  
  
Jiyong scoffs but feels a heavy weight grow inside him.   
  
'I don't owe you any stories,' he says quietly.   
  
'No'.  
  
All the same, Seunghyun sits with his arms folded, knowing he'll get one anyway because he's asked.   
  
'Do you want the short version or the long version?'  
  
'Long'.  
  
Jiyong crosses his legs and leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He talks.  
  
‘You thought I would be okay when you left. That’s what you said to me before. Well, I wasn’t,’ Jiyong says. ‘I had to go to my parent’s house to survive it. I was miserable. I wanted to die. It took weeks, staying with my parents for me to start feeling better. Nothing there reminded me of you. It was a distraction’.   
  
He pulls the pack of cigarettes from where it fell earlier, squashed between his thigh and the side of the chair. He pulls one out but doesn't light it.  
  
'After a few weeks, I went back to my apartment. I thought it was time. I was doing better. I thought I could cope without you around, but apparently not,' he says, frustrated. 'I wasn't in the door five seconds before I was crying my eyes out'.  
  
Seunghyun looks pained and Jiyong focuses on the cigarette in his hand.   
  
'After that, I drank and slept. Two peas in a pod, you and me,' he jests, though Seunghyun doesn't laugh. 'I just drank. I couldn't get through the day sober'.  
  
Their stories sound painfully similar for a while.  
  
'After a month of that, I took it too far, I guess. After a night out, that I still don't remember, I woke up on my bathroom floor. I didn’t feel right’.  
  
He lights his cigarette with trembling fingers, angry that a memory so old and pointless can still affect him.   
  
'I don't really know,' he says. 'I couldn't breathe. Everything hurt. It felt like I was dying, that's all. I was scared. It's kind of a blur now, but it was bad'.  
  
He spares a quick glance Seunghyun's way and sees him bowed forward with his elbows on his knees. This is hard for him to hear.  
  
'But I had a guardian angel,' Jiyong jests. ‘Someone hauled me off the ground and shoved their fingers down my throat. I threw up everywhere and pissed myself like a baby, but I was alive. They saved me from choking to death on my own vomit, or whatever would have happened to me. If they weren’t there, I would have died,’ he says. ‘I know that. I felt it’.    
  
He takes another drag and looks up in time for Seunghyun's question, which comes out so faintly, he almost doesn't hear him.  
  
'Who was it?'  
  
'A friend,' Jiyong lies. 'You don't know him. One of Xin's friends'.  
  
'And that's why you don't drink anymore?'  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong answers. 'I try but---'  
  
Seunghyun drags his hands over his face like he has woken up with a terrible hangover. He stares into space with eyes wide, like he can see something nobody else can see.  
  
'It wasn't your fault,' Jiyong says knowingly. 'It was an accident. I made bad choices. It had nothing to do with you'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer but Jiyong can almost hear his thoughts. The guilt is written on his face.  
  
'It was an accident and it's over,' Jiyong reiterates. 'I'm fine'.  
  
He takes another drag and blows smoke between them, trying to mask Seunghyun's face and every obvious thought on it. Before he can speak or lament what happened or apologise for something out of his control, Jiyong gets there first.  
  
'Whatever,' he says. 'We're back to you now. You never answered my question about Christmas, you know. Why didn't you answer me when I called you? That was horrible. I was at my parent’s house. The whole family was downstairs'.  
  
Seunghyun takes the cue and lets Jiyong's hasty segue be a derailing from his accident.  
  
'I couldn't,' Seunghyun answers. 'I was in trouble. Things were bad for me. I thought if I said anything, you would know how bad it really was. I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. I think I thought if I said _hello_ to you, if I said sorry or anything else you would hear something in my voice. I would hang up and twelve hours later you would knock on my door. I was afraid of that,' he says. 'So I just sat there'.  
  
His answer doesn't inspire Jiyong with confidence, it just raises more questions, more latent worries and things that need knowing.  
  
'How bad _was_ it?' Jiyong asks. 'If hearing your voice was going to tip me off, what was going on? What was happening to you? What did you do over there, Seunghyun? Why did you fuck people? What were you doing if you weren't getting any better? Did you try and get help? Were you just drinking and sleeping? A year is a long long time. I don't know _anything_ about the time you were gone'.  
  
Seunghyun gestures absently with his hand before running it lightly through his hair.  
  
'I don't want to talk about what happened over there'.  
  
'I thought you were going to tell me everything?'  
  
'Things that _related_ to you _,'_ he answers. 'Things you could ask specific questions about, things that directly affected you, okay? Things you had the wrong idea about. I don't want to talk about the rest'.  
  
Why not? What could be worse than the confessions he's already made?  
  
'Technically we never broke up, I should think you having sex with three people directly affects me'.  
  
He means it as a joke more than anything else, but Seunghyun answers him all the same.  
  
'The first woman, I was drunk,' he says tautly. 'The second one? I started crying after two minutes and rolled off her. The guy? I just wanted to feel something. Anything. He was fat and red and sweaty and I thought feeling disgusted was better than feeling nothing, so I let him fuck me. I went home afterwards, threw up and shaved my head’.

Jiyong stares wide-eyed at this succinct confession. Seunghyun answers so hurriedly and without pause, Jiyong struggles to focus on any one part.  
  
‘I’m sorry for doing that to you, but please don't think I was having romantic evenings with strangers,' Seunghyun says. 'None of those times were like that. They never would have been. They were disgusting and humiliating. I wish I could take them all back. I made mistakes'.  
  
Jiyong sits there with his mouth open, gawking at Seunghyun. His heart pounds in his chest.  
  
'Jesus,' he whispers.  
  
As heartbroken as he was when Seunghyun told him he'd fucked other people, he never really imagined the scenarios themselves. A part of him must have thought they were passionate, sexy trysts because hearing otherwise shocks him. To think Seunghyun let a fat, sweaty man fuck him because he wanted to _feel_ something? The implications of that make Jiyong feel ill.  
  
'Anyway, that's Japan,' Seunghyun says quickly. 'I don't know what else to say. I'm just sorry. I'm sorry I never told you the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you. I know you would have done your best, if I had,’ he says. ‘I'm sorry I left without saying anything to you. I'm sorry I never contacted you. I'm sorry I didn't answer you at Christmas. I'm sorry I fucked people. I'm sorry for every choice I made last year. Every single one'.  
  
Jiyong frowns involuntarily. His free hand lingers on his stomach, the cigarette smouldering in the other.  
  
'I'm sorry for making you listen to this,' Seunghyun continues. 'I know you didn't want to but I can't have you thinking those five years were a lie because I fucked it up at the end. If I died tomorrow, I would want you to know how I felt about you. On my worst days, you were all I had. I loved you. I never stopped loving you, I just made bad choices,' he says. 'I should have told you but I didn't. I can’t take it back'.  
  
Jiyong stubs his cigarette out on the wooden armrest.  
  
'Why do you keep saying that?' he asks weakly. 'If you died tomorrow--- you've said that twice today. You said it earlier on the balcony'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, frustrated.  
  
'It's an expression'.  
  
'Is it?'   
  
'What does that mean?'  
  
Jiyong perches himself on the very edge of his chair and says something so ludicrous, so _insane_ he's actually embarrassed to say the words. For his piece of mind, he has to say them anyway. Seunghyun can laugh at him and he'll gladly blush at his own neurosis.  
  
'How bad did things _get_ over there?’ Jiyong asks. ‘I mean, what are we talking about? Did you try to kill yourself?'  
  
He ends the question with a crisp laugh, expecting Seunghyun to do the same. Even saying the words, his face feels hot, embarrassed for having said them at all. Seunghyun's lips part to speak. Jiyong waits for his answer. He waits for Seunghyun alleviate his fears with a few sharp words, _'don't be so dramatic,'_ but nothing comes out. There is no comforting remonstrance.  
  
Seunghyun is silent.  
  
He just shuts his mouth again.  
  
He shuts up and Jiyong _knows what that means._ In a moment all the pieces fall together. You don't say, _'I'm tired,'_ the way Seunghyun has said it, as many times as he has, without it becoming obvious eventually. The way he said, _'I was done,'_ and a dozen other phrases that all added up to a pathological need to disappear, not overseas but altogether.  
  
_If I died tomorrow, I'd want you to know._  
  
'Why would you ask me that?' Seunghyun says, way too late. Way too fucking late.  
  
'Why didn't you say no?' Jiyong asks, standing up abruptly.   
  
_'No'._  
  
'You hesitated'.  
  
'No, I _didn't_ '.  
  
Jiyong sits back down, flustered. He moves to speak twenty times but nothing comes out. He stands up again without knowing why. He can't breathe. He feels hot. He almost sits back down before thinking better of it.  
  
_He hesitated._  
  
'Oh. I need some water'.  
  
He turns on his heels and almost runs from the bedroom. He needs to get out. He needs to get away from Seunghyun and what he just said or didn’t say.   
  
Walking to the kitchen, seeing Seunghyun's things on the way? Jiyong knows a glass of water won't fix this. Intermingled with every foreign chair, every gaudy piece of art, every bizarre re-purposed ornament, there is Seunghyun's hesitation to answer what should have been a simple question.  
  
Seunghyun could easily not be here.  
  
Everything in this apartment could have been packed away months ago, replaced with the knick-knacks and belongings of somebody else. Someone who moved in because the previous occupant was never coming back.  
  
The mirror in the hallway, the old vase by the door, the bar-stools Seunghyun reupholstered himself after paying a fortune to learn the ins and outs of _furniture upholstery_ ; two weeks Jiyong was grateful to be out of the apartment.  
  
They could all be gone.  
  
How sad would it be for this conglomeration of mismatched pieces; the 300 year old chest of drawers and the contemporary bookshelves, to be separated. Nothing in the apartment goes with anything else, but at the same time, under Seunghyun's tutelage, the finished product is _nice_. It suits him and because it suits him, it suits Jiyong too.  
  
Jiyong reaches the kitchen and stills. He looks at the bench-top Seunghyun chose a year after moving in. Before he bought the apartment, Seunghyun knew what he was and wasn't changing. He knew which walls were coming down and which surfaces were being replaced. He spent twelve months finding the perfect counter-tops before the old ones were torn out. He spent hours online, hours on the phone to various stores, hours talking with friends in architecture and interior design. He went to Italy for a photoshoot and spent his one free afternoon looking at different kinds of marble before choosing the perfect counter-top, which incidentally wasn't marble but enamelled lava stone from France made to _look_ like Marble.  
  
Jiyong had looked at the finished product, wondering why Seunghyun hadn't simply _bought_ marble. An offhand comment sparked a twenty-minute crash course on why marble, albeit aesthetically pleasing, wasn't a functional choice. It _stains,_ Seunghyun said.  
  
That was someone who took care, someone who weighed the pros and cons of important decisions and acted accordingly. That was someone methodical and careful, who for all his childishness, all his carefree and indulgent moments was fundamentally mindful.  
  
That was someone who tried to kill himself.  
  
If he hadn't, he wouldn't have hesitated.  
  
Jiyong pulls open the refrigerator door, not fully conscious of what it is he's looking for. He has a half-empty bottle of Pinot Noir in his hand before he knows what he's doing. Kicking the door closed behind him, he thinks ruefully about what an open bottle of wine in the fridge means. Seunghyun is still drinking, whether it's a lot or a little, but maybe that doesn't matter anymore.   
  
He twists the cork out and throws it in the sink, bringing the bottle to his lips in moments. He doesn't think about it, he just drinks. It's sweet but dry. On his best day, he never liked red wine but after a year of abstinence, the taste of alcohol is jarring. If he were anywhere else, he would spit it out but he's in Seunghyun's kitchen and he _hesitated_ so Jiyong drinks. He drinks until it's almost gone and he runs out of air.  
  
The bottle is taken from him, yanked from his grip unexpectedly. Seunghyun stands there with his mouth agape, like a fish out of water.  
  
'What are you _doing?_ I thought you didn't drink any more'.  
  
Jiyong reaches feebly for the bottle in Seunghyun’s hand. There are still a few mouthfuls left and they belong to him. He needs them. He can't face this without them. Seunghyun hesitated.  
  
'Give it back'.  
  
_'No'._  
  
Jiyong lunges discretely for the bottle but Seunghyun side-steps him and moves to the sink, pouring the last few mouthfuls down the drain. Jiyong watches plaintively before thinking, _Who am I kidding? There's more where that came from_.  
  
He moves to the wine rack and pulls one out but Seunghyun takes that from him just as quickly.  
  
'Stop it. Are you my mother?'   
  
There are seven bottles left in the rack out of a possible sixteen and Jiyong reasons that Seunghyun can't take them all. He goes for the corkscrew but Seunghyun gets there first, shutting the drawer behind him with a mild triumphant huff. He opens the second snatched bottle with a quiet _pop_ and Jiyong watches dismally as the contents disappear down the sink, following the path of the other.  
  
When he starts doing the same to a third, Jiyong's face flushes and he watches, stunned. Seunghyun upends the bottle over the sink without a second thought.  
  
'What are you _doing?'_  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer, he doesn't even turn around. He just pours litres of alcohol down the drain, one bottle after another. For an alcoholic, it's an impressive feat.  
  
'You were right,' Seunghyun says lamely. 'All those times you said I might have a drinking problem. The first step is removing temptation, right?'  
  
'The first step is admitting you have a problem'.  
  
'The second then'.  
  
Jiyong folds his arms. He can see the muscles of Seunghyun's back through his shirt when he moves. It's a bitter reminder that even though he's within arms-reach and very much alive; he just as easily might not be.  
  
'You're doing this so I won't drink?'  
  
'Is everything about you?'  
  
'I can _drink_ , Seunghyun. I'm an adult. _I_ don't have a problem'.  
  
He sounds more childish than he means to and his face flushes, frustrated with Seunghyun's overly dramatic reaction to his drinking. He deserves a drink.  
  
'You just told me you haven't had a drink in a year,' Seunghyun answers coolly. 'You're not going to stand here and drink because I said something that upset you'.  
  
'You didn't say _anything,'_ Jiyong snaps.  
  
It's a loaded statement. Seunghyun turns around, so close that Jiyong can see where the thread is fraying on second shirt button.  
  
'I didn’t try to kill myself'.  
  
'Then why did you _hesitate?'_  
  
'It was complicated'.  
  
'I don't see how. You either did or you didn't'.  
  
'It was _complicated_ '.  
  
Jiyong feels suffocated. He side-steps out of reach and moves to the other side of the counter, planting himself on a stool. Seunghyun moves slowly back to the sink, uncorking another bottle. How complicated can it be, Jiyong thinks. You do it or you don't, you live or you die. You can't do both or neither, you can't _half_ do it. If the answer wasn't _no, I didn't try to kill myself_ , then it was _yes, I did._  
  
There was no grey area.  
  
He watches the last of the wine spill out into the sink. He thinks about blood and all the ways a person can kill themselves. Seunghyun didn't slit his wrists because there isn't a mark on him. A part of him is relieved he didn't do that to himself. He can't stomach the thought of that kind of violence. The rest of him is fearful of all other ways he could have tried.  
  
'What did you do?' Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
Seunghyun turns, the now empty bottle on the counter beside the sink.  
  
'You must have done something or it wouldn't be complicated, you would have said ' _no,'_ right away. You wouldn't have hesitated’.  
  
Seunghyun sighs heavily, pulling a dish cloth from the cabinet beside him. He wipes his hands and leans back against the sink, pulling the fabric in between his fingers. He cuts the bullshit and answers simply.  
  
'I didn't want to die'.  
  
'But?'  
  
'Sometimes I thought it would be _easier'._  
  
Jiyong frowns involuntarily and his arms snake around his waist so he can hold onto something. His fingers dig into his own sides.   
  
'So you----'  
  
'Took chances,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'What kind?'  
  
'There were a few things,' he answers tiredly. 'There was an intersection by my apartment. On Friday nights when there was traffic I would go down and wait for the lights to change. When people crossed I would stay behind'.  
  
Jiyong frowns further, anticipating an unpleasant twist.  
  
'When the lights turned red again,' Seunghyun says, 'When the cars started moving, I would try to cross'.  
  
'What do you mean? You walked into the road?' Jiyong asks. 'Into _traffic?_ '  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'On _purpose?'_  
  
Jiyong brings a hand to his face and covers his mouth. He has visions of Seunghyun stepping into the blinding lights of cars, too fast for anyone to break in time. He can practically hear the screech of tyres in his head. He thinks about the intersections he's seen for himself over there, the frenetic energy, the crowds, the sheer _size_ of the traffic; like the entire population, all 120 something million were on the road at once.  
  
The thought of Seunghyun stepping into that on purpose terrifies him. It makes him sick to his stomach.  
  
'You never got hit?'  
  
'No'. Seunghyun holds out his arms briefly. 'I'm invincible, apparently'.  
  
He says that like it's a joke, like the words coming out of his mouth aren't devastating but a dull story, some brief annoyance he lived through a hundred years ago. Jiyong stares at him wide eyed, unable to un-see Seunghyun's battered body lying in a street somewhere. For a dozen reasons he can't _believe_ he would do that.  
  
Seunghyun, who over the years gave a thousand speeches that would have frightened a normal person. Speeches that oozed devotion and commitment and impossible dreams for the two of them to stay together as long as possible; Seunghyun who sat on this same stool years ago and swore he'd never leave him. It doesn't seem possible that he could disappear and do something so violent or final.   
  
After everything he said over the years, every serious and kidding word aside about him never leaving, _you're stuck with me / won't happen_ ; he did it anyway. In the worst possible way a person can leave, Seunghyun tried to go.  
  
Jiyong feels the loss almost as heavily as if Seunghyun had succeeded, if luck hadn't intervened however many times and saved his life. He clutches at his chest and tries to remember how to breathe, his lungs suddenly filled with lead.  
  
Oblivious, Seunghyun goes on.  
  
'There were other things I tried,' he says. 'I got my license because a politician over there died in a car accident. I saw it on the TV one day. I thought if I could drive, I could go somewhere less populated, I could pick a road, hit the accelerator and close my eyes. That would be that. It seemed easy. People would think it was an accident. They wouldn’t have to know I’d done it to myself’.  
  
Jiyong reluctantly pulls his hand from his mouth so he can speak, his chest physically _aching_.  
  
'And you _did_ that?' he asks. 'Did you _do that?'_  
  
Seunghyun nods, less blasé than before but far from emotional.   
  
'A few times,' he says.  
  
Jiyong winces and thinks about the first revealing day he saw Seunghyun back from Japan. He thinks about the no-smoking and the shaved head and the fucking Bugatti in the driveway. He was bitter that Seunghyun had learned how to drive without him. Giving him reluctant lessons was something he had always expected to do. He was angry that Seunghyun had taken that away from him.  
  
All the while, this was his reason for learning?  
  
'Did you have an _accident?'_  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers, almost embarrassed. 'I always backed out at the last second. Every time. I would think about Dae and Seungri’s accidents and I couldn't do it. Each time, I only lasted a few seconds before I opened my eyes. It didn't seem right to do it that way'.  
  
_'Jesus Christ,'_ Jiyong answers bitterly, his chest heaving despite his best efforts to breathe normally. The room spins when he moves. His fingers ache.  
  
'What else?' he asks quickly.  
  
If there's more, he needs to hear it now before he runs out of this apartment screaming.  
  
Seunghyun's face changes with his next breath; suddenly more serious, more affected. The change makes Jiyong sick from anticipation because how much worse can it get? What's worse than stepping into traffic and _purposely_ trying to die in a car accident? What's worse than talking about those things with a straight face, like they hardly matter?  
  
'I had trouble sleeping over there,' Seunghyun says, reticent. He folds his arms across his chest and breaks eye contact. 'Before I left, I would sleep all day but once I was over there, I couldn't sleep at all. It didn't matter how much I drank or how many pills I took, I would be awake for days at a time'.  
  
A pitiful sound slips from Jiyong's lips.   
  
He tries to prepare himself for the end of this story. An overdose on pills, is that how it ends? He thought about that once, when things got bad. Before he and Seunghyun were together. Pills had always seemed the most glamorous way to go. Maybe Seunghyun had actually done it. Pills were a gamble, he read that once. Half the time you threw them up before they could kill you. Maybe that happened to him.  
  
'After a few months, I made it work to my advantage,' Seunghyun says grimly. 'So being awake for three or four days straight wouldn't be so awful any more'.  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'I would wait until I was tired,' he says, 'I mean falling-asleep-standing-up been-awake-for-days _tired_. Then I would drink and run a bath'.  
  
Without even knowing why, without knowing where this is going, Jiyong is suddenly filled with dread. With a dread so intense he feels it in every part of his body. His heart beats so hard and so fast in his chest he physically clutches at his shirt in affected pain.   
  
'I would make sure the water was the perfect temperature,' Seunghyun continues. 'Then I would put on a nice suit or a nice sweater. Something I really _liked_ and I would get in. I would finish off a bottle of whatever I could find, then I would close my eyes and I would go to sleep'.  
  
Jiyong whimpers in his hands like a child. A shiver runs down his spine so intense his whole body shakes involuntarily. Seunghyun tried to kill himself and there's no dressing it up or down. There's no reasoning that he simply made _mistakes_ , that in anguished moments of no control he took unnecessary risks.  
  
Filling a bath, putting on a nice suit and slipping in fully clothed, hoping to fall asleep? That's not a gesture or a fleeting moment of pain. That's premeditated. That's wilful action. That's trying damn fucking hard not to wake up. He drank to lessen the chances of waking up once he went under.  
  
It wasn't _complicated_ like he said.  
  
He tried to _kill_ himself.  
  
He just did.  
  
The room spins around him and Jiyong clutches at the counter like his life depends on it. His breaths come so fast and erratic, he can barely get the words out, slipping them in between errant gasps.  
  
'You thought you could just close your eyes and slip under and that would be that?'  
  
Seunghyun looks ashamed of himself, at last, but it's no consolation. They are past that.  
  
'Yeah, I guess I did'.  
  
Jiyong grabs at his chest and tries to breathe but the harder he tries the worse it gets. A dozen unwanted memories fill his head; memories from all over the place; memories of Seunghyun and himself and a dozen moments between them so far removed from _this_ moment, they seem like childish dreams.  
  
He remembers Seunghyun touching his hand below the table at a meeting _years_ ago. In a room filled with people who could ruin them. Seunghyun risked it all for their two fingers to intertwine. In that moment, Jiyong was ready to give it all up for the chance to touch his hand. It didn't matter that after the meeting they could go anywhere they liked and do far _more_ than that. They were in love and it was new and exciting and better judgement was for miserable people; people who were alone, people who didn't want to say _'I love you'_ twenty times a day just for the sake of it.  
  
In the same breath, he remembers Seunghyun dragging him to an art gallery after hours, a few weeks after the last birthday they spent together. He booked the whole place for one hour of peace and wanted Jiyong to go with him. He stopped at every piece and talked about them, about the way they made him feel; what he liked and what he didn't. To Jiyong, all the paintings were the same, every sculpture as boring as the last but Seunghyun loved that stuff and Jiyong loved him, so he listened to everything he said and was grateful for the chance. He was grateful that Seunghyun wanted to share something with him that he usually kept for himself.  
  
Memories flash in and out of his mind, unwanted. Some huge, sparkling moments he wishes he could relive forever; others small and at the time, insignificant. Things so banal and every day as Seunghyun remembering to buy the right kind of juice for him at the store.   
  
He remembers Seunghyun's laughter and his smile and how easy it was to love him when it was all said and done. This tall, bumbling idiot who starred in action movies by day and reupholstered furniture by night; who would laugh at cartoons until he cried and then talk seriously about a civil war in a country he had never been to; this was who Jiyong had loved unreservedly.  
  
And Jiyong _remembers_ all of these moments, all of these undeniable truths because they're never gone. No matter how many times he pushes them away, they linger beneath the surface because Seunghyun was his first real love. Maybe his best love. Maybe he'll never love anyone that way again--- and he's standing here now, saying he tried to kill himself. He walked into traffic and tried to crash his car and dressed himself up nicely so he could die in his favourite clothes and that was _never_ supposed to happen.  
  
His heart _breaks._  
  
He tries to ask what happened, how Seunghyun could _do_ something so horrible, how he could try so hard and still be here to talk about it. His breaths come out so fast and erratic he can't get the words out, he just gestures with his hands, hoping Seunghyun understands him.  
  
'I usually woke up once I went under,' Seunghyun says quietly.  
  
Under the water he hoped would _kill_ him.  
  
_'Usually?'_  
  
'One time it worked the way I hoped,' Seunghyun says, his voice thick with emotion. He shrugs, like he doesn't know how else to say it. 'I had had too much to drink. I didn't wake up. But---'  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'I thought he was asleep’.  
  
_'Who?'_  
  
'John. Jae Han. He was staying with me--- but we'd been drinking? He was _asleep?_ I checked,' Seunghyun says, as if saying that will change time and make it true.  
  
_'But?'_  
  
'But I woke up on the floor, coughing up water. It was kind of like your story. Fingers down the throat, he rolled me on my side. More shouting than your story though. Either way, it worked. I slipped under and I didn't wake up--- but he wasn't asleep'.  
  
He sounds disappointed.  
  
'I don't know how he walked in at that exact moment,' Seunghyun says. 'What are the odds? It worked, finally, but he stopped me'.  
  
_Saved you._

It takes a few moments for Jiyong to comprehend Seunghyun's words and when he does, he loses control of himself entirely. Hardly conscious of his own actions, he's across the apartment in seconds, at the furthest wall he can physically reach.  
  
When he can't go any further he bows forward in the lounge room, his hands on his knees. His breaths come out in heaving choked sobs and he struggles to control them. The room spins, his chest tightens and all he can hear is Seunghyun's voice saying, _'It worked. Finally'_.  
  
He almost _died_.  
  
Like his own near-death experience, Seunghyun had done the same thing but purposefully and after the fact, after making it _through,_ sounded disappointed. Jiyong straightens but the room tilts and he splays a hand out to steady himself on the wall.  
  
Seunghyun appears from nowhere and lays a hand on his arm as if to help him.  
  
'Don't _touch_ me,' Jiyong cries. 'Oh my god, _don't touch me'._  
  
How many times did he try to kill himself? How many chances did he have to say something, to ask for help, to send an email or a letter or a text. Would he have left a note or were the last words they ever shared going to be Seunghyun's cavalier goodbye from a year earlier, 'See you tomorrow'.  
  
Who would have found him? What would have happened to his _body?_ Would his parents have cremated him? Would there have been a funeral? The thought makes Jiyong ill. He has to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.   
  
Would he have known what happened before it hit the news or would he have found out the same way everyone else would have; his last glimpse of Seunghyun alive and well, a piece on the television with a news reporter sharing all the grizzly details?  
  
Their whole history would have disappeared in an instant.   
  
'Oh my god,' Jiyong cries, crouching down. _'Oh my god'._  
  
The full weight of what almost happened breaks him. He never would have seen him again. His last glimpse would have been the back of Seunghyun's head as he left the apartment on his birthday, leaving him behind with tears in his eyes.   
  
That would have been it.   
  
After everything they've been through over the past decade and then some, that was how it would have ended. The last thing Jiyong ever said to Seunghyun, over a phone call at Christmas, 'I love you but wherever you are, I hope you stay there'.  
  
He buries his face in his hands.  
  
He said that. Those words came out of his mouth and at the time, he had meant them. Suddenly, he can recall a dozen times since Seunghyun's return where he's said similar things. Standing over him the morning after they slept together, he said _'_ Maybe you should go back. We were better off without you'.  
  
Jiyong drops the rest of the way, from a crouch into a kneel, his knees hitting the ground with a thud. His skin grows cold, goosebumps trail up his arms. He feels sick. His head spins, from the wine or the hyperventilating. He can't breathe.   
  
'Hey, calm down'.  
  
A hand closes around his bicep and Jiyong lashes out, shoving a crouching Seunghyun onto his ass. He wants to follow him down, wants to shout at him and beat the shit out of him but he can't do either. His lips part but nothing comes out.  
  
Seunghyun's eyes widen at the sudden violence, surprised to be on his back but he doesn't move. He props himself up on his elbows but stays where he is, sprawled across the carpet where Jiyong pushed him. He looks at him sympathetically and Jiyong looks back, filled with rage and guilt but most of all fear, for the dozen possible futures he never imagined until now.   
  
Seunghyun didn't say those things like they were a dark chapter of his life he was lucky to escape from. He talked about wanting to die like it was a fond memory, some holiday snapshot in a photo album he pulled out when he wanted to reminisce.   
  
Nausea moves through Jiyong like blood in his veins. He sits there with his fists clenched in his lap, biding his time until his breathing slows, until he can speak without giving himself away.   
  
'He stopped you,' he says quietly. 'Your friend. He didn't save you, he _stopped_ you. That's what you said'.  
  
Seunghyun frowns.  
  
'Do you regret it? Do you wish he _hadn't_ saved you?'  
  
When he answers, Seunghyun looks him dead in the eyes.  
  
'Sometimes'.  
  
A sob comes out of Jiyong so pained and loud, he doesn't recognise himself. It doesn't matter that he already knew. Hearing Seunghyun _say_ it is something else entirely. He can almost feel his heart break in two.  
  
'Not all the time,' Seunghyun says weakly, like that's some measure of consolation. Like that makes it alright. He looks like a helpless father trying to console a child and Jiyong knows he was never going to tell him. If he hadn't asked that question, if Seunghyun hadn't hesitated, he wasn't going to tell anyone.  
  
He was going to sit on this secret until it killed him.  
  
When they sat in the bedroom half an hour ago and Seunghyun said _It was all for nothing_ , that leaving hadn't fixed things, Jiyong didn't understand the depths of what that meant for him. The Seunghyun who drank himself half to death, who fucked strangers so he could feel something, who walked into traffic and shaved his head and tried to drown himself--- he's sitting right here, three feet away and nothing has changed.  
  
Jiyong wraps his arms around his waist and bows forward until his forehead hits the carpet. With his face hidden, he quietly cries. He cries until his throat hurts, until the room spins and he can barely breathe. He cries because he doesn't know what else to do; because he almost lost him, because he still might, because he didn't _do_ something before things got this bad.  
  
Curled up in a ball, he cries like a child hiding under the covers, hiding from monsters under the bed.   
  
When Seunghyun's hand closes around his bicep for the second time, in an effort to calm him down, Jiyong doesn't push him away. He pulls Seunghyun's hand into his own, holding it against his chest while tears stream quietly down his face. There are a thousand things he wants to say but the words don't form.   
  
He is helpless. Face down in the carpet, he is incapable of doing whatever it is a person should do in this situation. He just squeezes Seunghyun's fingers and hopes he understands that he is wanted and loved, that he is necessary, that there isn't anything he wouldn't give to turn back the clock, to fix things, to make this better for him.  
  
He wants to say the obvious, _'Don't ever kill yourself. Don't you dare. People love you, I love you. Don't you understand what that would do to me?'_ He wants to scream and cry, _'Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?'_ He wants Seunghyun to understand the devastation he would leave behind.  
  
He wants to say whatever you say to miserable people to stop them from hanging themselves.   
  
He just can't get it out.  
  
The words don't come and he hates himself for that. He wants to tear out his own hair. He wants to scratch off his skin from sheer revulsion that he isn't _saying_ anything; that he can't comfort him, that he can't say the right words, that he is failing Seunghyun _again_. He failed him when they were together, for every moment he was away and now, on his knees in his apartment with their hands held against his chest, he is failing him again.  
  
Jiyong folds in on himself under the weight of his failures, the weight of his inability to keep Seunghyun safe. What chance does Seunghyun have if this is all he can offer him; if in moments of crisis, this is all he can do?  
  
It's just not enough.   
  
_No wonder he went away. No wonder he didn't confide in me. He must have known how useless I would be, how incapable I am of helping him._  
  
Out of nowhere, Seunghyun's weak voice breaks the silence.  
  
'I'm _sorry'._  
  
Jiyong looks up and sees Seunghyun's glistening eyes trained on their joined hands. He sees his bottom lip quake and his shoulders tremble from suppressed tears. What does he have to be sorry for?  
  
_I'm the one who's sorry._   
  
In an effort to keep himself from bawling all over again, from throwing himself against the nearest hard surface and crying his lungs out, Jiyong says something stupid. He draws himself up and tries to make a joke. He tries to make light of a situation that can't be made light of because he just needs one minute to _breathe_.  
  
'Were you even going to leave me a note, you bastard?'  
  
Seunghyun, somehow, takes it the way Jiyong intends it. He looks almost grateful and returns the grimace, wiping his eyes of errant tears.   
  
'Yeah,' he answers, pulling his hand free. Jiyong gives it up only reluctantly. 'I wrote you one. I still have it'.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
Seunghyun crawls to his feet and disappears, returning moments later with a sealed envelope. When he comes back, he looks composed. Jiyong wishes he looked the same. His face feels tight from dried tears and his nose runs like a child's.  
  
Jiyong holds the proffered envelope in both hands. His name is written on the front in Seunghyun's messy scrawl. It's heavy too. The envelope is thick. This isn't a brief note, _'I'm sorry, please forgive me,'_ this is _pages._  
  
He doesn't know if that's better or worse. Until this moment he didn't expect Seunghyun to leave anything behind. The way he chose to do this, Jiyong imagined Seunghyun would have left his reasons to the imagination, with everyone he left behind trying to piece it all together.  
  
'What's in it?' Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
'I honestly don't remember,' Seunghyun answers weakly, 'but I hope I said the right things'.  
  
A quiet whimper slips past Jiyong's lips and he forces it all down. He flips the envelope over and runs his finger along the back, his fingernail brushing over the seal. He doesn't open it. He can't bear the thought of reading what's inside, whatever it is. This isn't the kind of letter a person is supposed to read. He holds it out for Seunghyun to take back but he refuses.  
  
'I wrote it for you. Do what you want with it'.  
  
Jiyong almost laughs, but he takes it back all the same, folding it carefully. He slips it in his pocket.  
  
'You say that like it's a piece of jewellery, not a suicide note. What are you doing with the rest of them? Christmas presents?'  
  
Seunghyun frowns, embarrassed and Jiyong hates himself all over again. How could he say something like that?  
  
'I only wrote two,' he says.  
  
Jiyong already knows the second was for his mother.   
  
He stretches his hand out, to touch Seunghyun's leg, to grab him, to say sorry, to say all the right things but the doorbell rings and the echo rebounds off every wall. Seunghyun pulls back imperceptibly from Jiyong's reach and it doesn't go unnoticed.  
  
Jiyong's face contorts and he tries to hide it in his hand.  
  
_He doesn't want me to touch him. I didn't say anything like I should have. I didn't tell him I loved him or that he wasn't allowed to fucking kill himself. I just sat here like a prick. He told me the truth and I didn't say anything._  
  
The doorbell rings again and again, the brief tune starting over and over before it has a chance to play through. Whoever is out there is hitting the button repeatedly like a child. The sound makes the hairs on Jiyong's arms stand tall. It's family, probably.  
  
His stomach drops as he thinks about that.  
  
Seunghyun's grandmother is dead and whoever is on the other side of that door is going to tell him so. It doesn't matter that he's miserable or that he wants to die or that he has tried it once or twice already. Bad news comes anyway.   
  
Seunghyun drags himself to his feet and drags his hands down his face.  
  
'You don't have to answer that,' Jiyong says desperately, trying to save him somehow. Maybe a few more minutes will make all the difference.   
  
'Yes, I do. You should probably go home anyway'.  
  
Seunghyun heads for the door and Jiyong only has a few seconds to drag himself to his feet, to sniff and wipe the tears from his eyes before the door is open and a blur of navy blue hits Seunghyun so hard he stumbles back four feet.  
  
His sister.  
  
'She's dead. I hope you're happy. I hope whatever you were doing was really important because she's dead and you weren't there'.  
  
Her voice comes out broken but scathing, so full of anger and disappointment Jiyong winces to hear it. She has dark make-up running down her face from tears already shed. She punches Seunghyun in the chest and curses with the best of them.  
  
Suddenly, Jiyong understands why Seunghyun didn't visit his grandmother when he still had the chance. He was afraid. The way she intuited his darkest secrets when she was well, he worried she would do it again. That even dying, she would take one look at him and know what he had tried to do.  
  
_'Of all the people in my life, I didn't want her to know'._  
  
He said that on the balcony, Jiyong remembers. Seunghyun loved her. He loved her the way he didn't love anyone else in his family except his mother. Her opinion mattered to him. He was afraid of disappointing her. He wanted her last memory of him to be something better.  
  
Maybe it was misguided but Jiyong understands it, in a way Seunghyun's parents never will, in a way his sister never will because he won't ever tell her. Standing here, watching his sister berate him, Jiyong knows that for a certainty. Seunghyun won't defend himself or try to explain because having his family believe he is an uncaring monster is somehow preferable to them knowing he's in trouble.  
  
Seunghyun's sister quietens down for a moment and suddenly looks Jiyong's way, noticing him there in the lounge-room. She looks embarrassed and straightens her hair.  
  
'I didn't know anyone else was here'.  
  
Jiyong mouths wordlessly, trying to think of something to say.  
  
'He was just leaving,' Seunghyun says.  
  
And with that, Jiyong doesn't have a choice _but_ to leave. He can hardly plant himself on the couch and refuse to go. So he shuffles to the door with Seunghyun's fucking suicide note in his pocket, past his sister who will spend the next five minutes or five hours shouting at him because she doesn't know what he knows; because in her mind, Seunghyun deserves everything she has to throw at him; because doing that will make her feel better. It might even help her grieve.   
  
Seunghyun opens the door for him and Jiyong ducks under his arm, stepping out onto the landing. He can see Seunghyun's sister behind him, waiting for the moment the door shuts to unleash hell.  
  
'Can I talk to you out here for a second,' Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
Seunghyun steps out onto the landing with him, closing the door at his back. Out of view and out of earshot from his sister, this is the only chance Jiyong has to say what he needs to say, to let Seunghyun know all of those important things you're supposed to tell people when they're in trouble but even now, words fail him. He curses quietly in frustration and gestures with his hands in a hopeless attempt to explain how he feels.  
  
'I'll be fine,' Seunghyun whispers knowingly. 'Go home. It's okay'.  
  
Jiyong winces, a sudden wave of tears threatening to show themselves because it's not okay. This isn't a situation he wants to leave Seunghyun in. He wants to stay, even if he can't say the right words. Even if he can only stand here like a useless piece of furniture.   
  
He wastes too much time trying to find the words to say before giving up altogether. Instead, he tries to explain the torrent of feeling and emotion in one fleeting touch, pulling Seunghyun into a hug. With one hand on the back of his neck and the other around his back, Jiyong tries to tell him without words all the things he wishes he could have said if he were stronger, if he had the courage to face this like an adult.  
  
When Seunghyun pulls back, too quickly, Jiyong holds him in place out of stubbornness. This is something he needs to do. He needs Seunghyun to know that he loves him, that he's fucking _important_ to somebody. Even if he can't say it.  
  
'I need this to happen again,' Jiyong whispers into his neck, referring to the hug. 'So you answer the phone when I call you tomorrow. You _answer_ '.  
  
It is the only way he knows to address his fears, that the moment he steps away, Seunghyun will disappear. He needs him to still be here tomorrow. He needs him to _say_ he will be here.  
  
When Jiyong finally lets him go, Seunghyun turns without a second glance, pushing open the heavy door in answer. He steps back inside, back into the lions den where his sister is waiting to tear him to shreds, as if he would rather be in there than out here.  
  
As he pushes the door closed, Seunghyun first answers him quietly, through the narrowing space.   
  
'Yeah. Okay'.  
  
Jiyong repeats that to himself as he makes his way down the stairs, past Seunghyun's sister’s car, past the garden gnome, past a stepping stone he's tripped over twenty times before.  
  
Okay.  
  
Seunghyun will still be here tomorrow.

 

  
  
* * *

  


On the drive home Jiyong lets the day catch up with him. From waking up in a National park in brisk open air, to sitting in a hospital hallway to hearing Seunghyun say he tried to drown himself. By the time Jiyong gets home, he feels nothing at all.  
  
While Hyeong-bae showers, he pulls open his box of private things and places Seunghyun's letter in the very bottom. Below all the photos and letters and little tokens of friendship and otherwise. If he covers it with enough things, maybe he will forget about it. Maybe he won't think about it every second of every day.  
  
When he climbs into bed, still wearing his clothes, Hyeong-bae eventually follows. He kisses the back of his neck and asks all the right questions. If Hyeong-bae had been in his place earlier, he would have known what to say to Seunghyun and Jiyong smiles grimly at the thought.  
  
When the lights are off and Hyeong-bae begins snoring quietly, his limbs half-off the bed, Jiyong leaves the bedroom and goes to sit in the empty bathtub. He doesn't mean to, he just finds himself there and after everything, it feels like the right place to be.

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**  
  
  
** It was light when he opened his eyes. The sun shone through the window in thick lines across his body. As he rolled to face the back of the couch, he felt the subtle damp of his clothes, still dressed in his hiking gear from the morning before. Lacking the energy to take it off, he unzipped his jacket and pulled one arm free, the other trapped beneath him.  
  
He wanted to roll face down into the leather cushions and go back to sleep. He wanted to evaporate. He wanted to disappear without a trace.  
  
The heat from the windows kept him tethered to the world. It kept him solid and warm and uncomfortable. It was penance. He lay in the warmth, in his sweat, through the pain in his back and the dryness in his throat and the burgeoning headache between his eyes because he had allowed bad things to happen.  
  
Seunghyun was broken so Jiyong felt he couldn't move.

  


  
  
* * *  
  


  
  
  
When he wakes a second time, it's with a start. His body lifts off the couch in surprise, like waking from a bad dream. His eyes adjust. His magazine from the early hours is on the floor, its pages splayed outwards. Hyeong-bae is standing in the corner, his hair jutting out in all directions, his eyes only half open. There is a towel slung over his shoulder.   
  
'Did you sleep out here?'  
  
Jiyong sinks back down into the cushions.  
  
'I got up early,' he answers, without missing a beat. 'I was reading. I must have fallen asleep'.  
  
He feels a pang of satisfaction that he isn't lying. When he climbed out of bed at 2am, it _was_ early. When he pulled himself from the bath an hour later, he sat on the couch and rifled through an old edition of 'W' he found on the bookshelf. He _read._  
  
Beneath the autobiographies and art books and coffee table compendiums of obscure foreign subjects were magazines he wanted to hold on to. In a specially made basket made from mesh and steel, were piles of magazines spanning the last ten years of his life. From the first mention to the first full page feature to the last photoshoot he did a year and a half ago. Every important moment in his career that made it onto paper sat on the bottom shelf.  
  
Here and there were magazines that featured one of the others. Moments over the past ten years where their publicity outside the group had overlapped. On the floor with its pages splayed is just one of many. An article from the tail end of 2013 sits near the centre with Seunghyun's face spread across a dozen pages. When he chose the magazine at random, Jiyong came across him unexpectedly while flicking absently through.  
  
_Running on Empty._  
  
He read the title of Seunghyun's piece with a bitter pang of regret and anger, at himself for not noticing and the rest of the world for being unequal to the task. In every photograph, Seunghyun looked miserable. For every black and white expressionless gaze there was a quote to match, made of honest answers to innocuous questions. Written in black and white were confessions of being unable to socialise, of preferring to drink, of being trapped in his head. Seunghyun told the interviewer that he was drawn to insecurity and tragedy, that he felt those elements were inside of him. He spent months after shooting his film in bed, unable to escape his misery.  
  
They were together then and Jiyong knew all of those things about him but at the time, their relationship was still new, on tenuous ground. They were finding their limits and their roles and touring around the world, often apart, Jiyong didn't pay much attention.  
  
When they were together, Seunghyun was a dream so the rest was unimportant. His depressive phases were part of the package. Jiyong learned on some level to ignore them because they were routine. _Running on Empty_ wasn't the first or last interview Seunghyun gave that should have raised alarms. People, himself included, took his thoughts and feelings for eccentricity instead of illness.   
  
That's what it was, he realises now, in hindsight. Illness. Some sickness inside him that had been there since the start, during their first kiss and each one after, lurking beneath the surface, biding its time until it became malignant, dangerous.  
  
After the fact, it seems obvious.  
  
Jiyong imagines himself in the witness stand in front of a jury of his peers, put on trial for negligence. If he gave his weak excuses, what would be said about him? What would the verdict be?  
  
People aren't supposed to have depressive phases the way Seunghyun had them. That they were a regular occurrence didn't make them normal. It didn't _mean_ they should keep happening. He should have done something sooner, not just the last time, but earlier, when it seemed manageable; when Seunghyun's misery and his problems were in magazines for the world to see. Jiyong looks at the magazine now, pages bent and flattened against the floor and remembers it all.  
  
'I was reading a magazine'.  
  
He feels warm and his stomach hurts.  
  
Hyeong-bae touches the towel over his shoulder and looks toward the bathroom wistfully before changing gears and heading instead for the lounge. Jiyong rolls his legs over the edge to make room for him.  
  
'I want to talk to you for a minute'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.   
  
'Please don't give me bad news'.  
  
'It's not bad,' Hyeong-bae answers, 'I don't think'.  
  
'I'm filled with confidence'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach roils from hunger in the brief silence. _I didn't eat yesterday_ , he remembers. _That's why I'm hungry. That's why my stomach hurts._  
  
'I wanted to talk about this sooner,' Hyeong-bae says, 'but at first I wasn't sure and then--- Well. I got the call yesterday but your friend had that accident. It didn't seem right to say anything'.  
  
'Say what?'  
  
'I got a job'.  
  
Jiyong's gaze falls, his eyes drawn to a yellowing bruise on Hyeong-bae's thigh. _I did that,_ he thinks. Hyeong-bae would often accuse him of bruising him with the bony edges of his knees while they slept. _One night on our trip, I dug in. I bruised him._  
  
'A job?'   
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Doing what?'  
  
'Construction'.  
  
Jiyong props himself up and sits back against the armrest, creating a space between them. He didn't see this coming. _He has a job._ _He's going to leave, not once but every day, a hundred times over. Now, when I need him. The way I left Seunghyun every day, to see friends and to eat and to sleep in my own bed. Small abandonments._  
  
'Construction,' he parrots dryly.   
  
Hyeong-bae went to college, he came from a good family. Those things were supposed to cultivate connections and opportunities above and beyond. Saying that, when their friendship began, he wasn't doing well. He was living in a one-bedroom apartment with a fold out couch. His credit cards before Jiyong paid them off, were maxed out. He was in debt. If he had connections from his old life, he would have used them.  
  
'Why construction?'   
  
'It's a job,' Hyeong-bae answers. 'I've done it before and I'm good at it'.  
  
'Why get a job at all?' Jiyong asks. 'I don't understand. You don't need money. I'll up the limit on your credit card if you need me to. And why Construction _?_ If this was something you really wanted to do, something you were passionate about, I would understand but _construction?_ '  
  
'I can't be passionate about construction?'  
  
He says it in good humour but Jiyong frowns, feeling helpless. His rests his chin in one hand.  
  
'I need a cigarette'.  
  
In lieu of a cigarette, Hyeong-bae pulls his feet from the floor and lifts them into his lap. Jiyong lets him, staring at his toes against Hyeong-bae's thigh. Strong fingers knead his soles the way he used to do for Seunghyun after long days. He feels guilty for thinking about that.  
  
'Look,' Hyeong-bae says gently. I'm not your sidekick. I'm my own person, I have my own interests and goals and I want to have a life again. I want to support myself. I don't want to have to rely on you to take care of me all the time, do you understand? These last few months have been great and I'm grateful but I want to do this. For me. It has nothing to do with you,' he says. 'Now that you're working all the time, I'm left alone all day and it's been good for a while, I've been able to work on some pet projects but I'm bored now. I want to work. I want to be able to buy you things; Dinners, gifts, I want us to go somewhere without you having to foot the bill'.  
  
His hands pause on Jiyong's feet, intuiting every unspoken question and complaint.  
  
'I know you offered to _open doors_ for me but I'm not interested in your life. I can't sing, I have no musical gifts, I'm no good at art or fashion or any of that. I don't know what I want to do. I hated the job I had before you and I got together. Getting fired was a blessing. I mean, I came from money. My future was laid out for me. I towed the line,' Hyeong-bae says. 'When I lost it all, I had to do what I had to do. It took me a while to get a job at a good company so for a couple of years before that, I was doing construction jobs to pay the bills. I'm a qualified electrician you know'.  
  
'You're _what_?'   
  
Hyeong-bae smiles.   
  
'I've told you that before'.  
  
'No you _didn't_ or I would have made you fix the bathroom light when it sprung a leak'.  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs, conceding maybe he forgot to mention that part of his life. For all their heart-to-heart talks when they were still only friends, this somehow never came up.  
  
'Look, maybe this isn't a stepping stone to a career,' Hyeong-bae says. 'It's just a way for me to get out there and figure out what I want to do next. Do you understand? I'm not going to get anywhere if I sit around the apartment all day'.  
  
'I _know_ that,' Jiyong answers petulantly, 'I just---- is this full time? When do you start?'  
  
'Wednesday. A couple of hours a day. There are a few commercial buildings going up across town. Part of a new complex. I'll be doing that for a month or so and then I'll find something else'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his feet from Hyeong-bae's lap and crosses his legs.  
  
'Wednesday? In _three days_ Wednesday? We have _three_ days and then we're hardly going to see each other anymore? _'_  
  
'I should have said something sooner, I know. I only started applying for jobs three weeks ago, and this job came up suddenly, and it’s a great job, Jiyong. It's one month of guaranteed work and I want to do it. It's not the end of the world,' he says gently. 'Most couples have to work around their 9-5 jobs. We'll be fine. You're barely home during the day anyway. You won't even notice I'm not here'.  
  
'Yes, I will,' Jiyong groans impulsively. 'Now of all times? I need you to be here, not across the city turning some lights on'.  
  
He knows the moment it slips out that his words are unfair and selfish. The dozen things you're supposed to say in this situation have gone unsaid. _Congratulations, I'm happy for you, A job? Way to go._  
  
'Now of all times?' Hyeong-bae answers, suddenly tired and closed off. 'What does that mean?'  
  
'It doesn't matter'.  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs, defeated. He stands up, his hand once again on the towel slung over his shoulder. He runs lax fingers through his messy morning hair and steps around the coffee table.  
  
'I'm taking a shower. I don't want to talk to you any more'.

 

  
  
* * *

  
  
  
  
Jiyong waits for the bathroom door to close and the water to turn on before he pulls a cushion into his face and yells, out of sheer frustration. He knows what he said was unfair and selfish, that he wasn't supportive or understanding. Hyeong-bae's news came out of nowhere.  
  
He can't imagine what will happen without Hyeong-bae around at all hours to clean up his emotional messes, to kiss him and hold him and joke around with him. With Seunghyun in pieces twenty minutes away, Hyeong-bae needs to _be_ here.  
  
Jiyong feels suddenly like a jailor; like an evil stepmother in a fairy tale, sentencing Hyeong-bae to life in the tower because he can't quite make it without him. That's what he's been doing all these months. He paid off his credit cards and erased his debts and subtly dissuaded him from leaving, from finding work and other friends and commitments that would take him away for any real length of time.  
  
'I'm a crazy person,' Jiyong whispers.   
  
_I abandoned Seunghyun and I'm smothering Hyeong-bae._

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
'When is the funeral?'  
  
'I don't know yet,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong lays on his stomach on the couch with his phone to his ear. _Obviously. they haven't set a date yet. She died less than 24 hours ago._  
  
'How long was your sister---- _visiting?_ ' Jiyong asks tactfully.  
  
'A while'.  
  
Seunghyun speaks like an automated machine designed to give monotone responses as succinctly as humanly possible. Despite that, Jiyong can tell _a while_ means _a long while_ , that every word cut through him to the bone; that whatever she accused him of or shouted to vent her anger, he'll remember for the rest of his life.  
  
Jiyong's just grateful Seunghyun answered the phone.  
  
He didn't expect him to kill himself last night, but the possibility was there in the back of his mind from the second he left him to the moment Seunghyun's deep voice answered the telephone with a gruff noise that was supposed to signal his tired hello.  
  
After sitting in the bathtub for an hour, Jiyong could hardly crawl into bed while that possibility existed. If anything had the power to kill him, it was knowing Seunghyun died while he was warm in bed with someone else's arms around him.  
  
So, dialling Seunghyun's home phone number, he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar garbled hello, the same after all this time. Seunghyun's answers to each fumbled, childish question thereafter--- _how are you, do you need anything---_ always came back the same. _Okay. No. Nothing._  
  
'Will you go to the funeral?' Jiyong asks.  
  
It strikes him that if Seunghyun couldn't go to the hospital, if he couldn't face his family, the funeral would be an insurmountable challenge for a dozen reasons neither of them can undo.   
  
'I don't know'.  
  
_Maybe they won't even tell him when it is,_ Jiyong thinks. _They'll cremate her and he won't know until after the fact._  
  
He wants to say, ' _If you want me to be there, I'll go with you. I'll hold your hand, I'll do whatever you need me to do. I'll protect you,'_ but the words don't come out. He wonders if he could do it; If he could hold Seunghyun's hand and keep him safe from the hundred things that could go wrong.  
  
_Would he want me to?_  
  
The silence between them grows and lingers until Jiyong can't remember the last time either of them spoke. He called on a whim, filled with guilt and frustration at his conversation with Hyeong-bae. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was in his hand. Now, he doesn't know what to say.  
  
He can hear Seunghyun breathing quietly across the line. With his eyes closed, it's easy to imagine they are in the same room. On late mornings when they were together, he would always wake first, bracing himself for the day by listening to the sound of Seunghyun's breathing. It was the last thing he heard when he closed his eyes at night and the first thing he heard when he opened them hours later.   
  
Faintly in the background he can hear the sound of the shower running down the hall.   
  
Hyeong-bae.  
  
He opens his eyes and exhales tiredly, trying to unburden himself of his frustration and his stress and his helplessness. The difference 24 hours can make. Trekking up a dozen mountains at Jirisan, he felt empowered. Between heaving breaths and mild complaints about his frozen face and aching legs, it seemed as though nothing could hurt him. With the sun bearing down through thin mountain air, he knew nothing else.   
  
It was peaceful.  
  
If he hadn't answered his phone yesterday morning, he and Hyeong-bae would be there now, rain or shine. His calf muscles would be crying out, he would be whining and smiling. Maybe they would be celebrating Hyeong-bae's foray into the workforce. Maybe he would have reacted better.  
  
If he hadn't answered the phone, Seunghyun's grandmother would have died and Seunghyun would have missed his chance to see her. Jiyong wonders if he could live with that. If he could turn back the clock and make a different choice at the base of that mountain, would he ignore the call?  
  
'I have to go'.  
  
Seunghyun says it tonelessly and Jiyong isn't surprised. He's amazed he stayed on the line for so long. Jiyong knows he should apologise and spew out all the things you're supposed to say to someone in this situation but he doesn't know what they are. Still. Maybe he won't ever know. He adopts Seunghyun's emotionless tone and answers just as briefly.  
  
'Alright'.  
  
Without either of them saying goodbye the phone cuts off.  
  
Without the sound of Seunghyun's breathing in his ear, that quiet voice in the back of his head reminds Jiyong that out of sight and earshot, anything can happen. There are a lot of roads and bathtubs and pills within Seunghyun's reach.   
  
_I still haven't said anything. I haven't told him he's not allowed to die._  
  
He rolls his face down into the cushion and counts how long he can go without breathing.

 

  


* * *  
  


  
  
'Are you trying to suffocate?'  
  
Jiyong is face down on the couch, but mumbles confirmation when Hyeong-bae's heavy frame makes the cushion dip beside him. Jiyong can smell the shampoo in his hair and a faint whiff of cologne.  
  
_I must smell like mud and sweat and ass._  
  
'You know, I only have three days left of freedom. I don't want to spend them trying to figure out what your problem is. Why don't you just tell me?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer. It's a miracle they're even speaking after their last conversation. He isn't sure how to apologise for being such a monstrous asshole. How do you apologise for wanting to keep someone on a leash, so they can be your housebound companion? ' _So you can turn some lights on'._ That's what he said, belittling electricians everywhere, as if living off royalties was somehow more noble.  
  
'Are you still upset by what happened yesterday?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Your friend? I thought he was doing alright'.  
  
Silence.  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls Jiyong up by the back of the collar so he can breathe.  
  
'Maybe you _do_ want to suffocate'.  
  
'Maybe,' Jiyong answers.   
  
In the same breath, in a voice full of spontaneous feeling, he suddenly tells the truth.   
  
'He tried to kill himself. My friend'.  
  
For a moment, there is silence. He hangs, suspended by Hyeong-bae's grip on the back of his collar.  
  
Then he drops.  
  
Hyeong-bae lets him go and Jiyong rolls onto his back.  
  
He stares at the ceiling and thinks _this is it; this is the post-secret world in which everyone knows Seunghyun tried to kill himself and I let it happen (only I can't name names)._ He still remembers getting the call in 2008 saying Seunghyun was in the hospital. There were rumours he'd tried to kill himself. It made all the papers and news sites.   
  
[Company: 'Tow the party line, he has the flu. It was an accident caused by drinking and flu medication. Understandable on a birthday']  
  
Jiyong believed that 100% at the time. Lying here now staring at the ceiling, he suddenly wonders. If it was an accident why did their manager tell him what to say if he was asked by the press? If it was understandable to drink too much on a birthday, wasn't it equally possible that spending his birthday alone, Seunghyun saw his chance to get out? That it wasn't an accident?  
  
Jiyong asked him about it once and he had shrugged.  
  
_'I didn't know that could happen with flu medication. You should have been more careful. What were you thinking?'_  
  
Shrug.  
  
_'What if you died? What would happen to the rest of us? Be more careful'._  
  
Nothing.  
  
Back then, he thought tough love was how to keep the group together. He still took leadership seriously. He thought he had to be everyone's mother and father, not that Seunghyun would or could be parented by anybody.  
  
_Some parent,_ Jiyong thinks.  
  
Hyeong-bae shifts idly next to him, mulling over an appropriate answer.   
  
'Sorry. The way you talked about it, I thought he broke his leg or something. You didn't say'.  
  
Jiyong absently bites his fingernails, gaze still locked on the ceiling.  
  
'When he told me, I didn't say anything. He told me these terrible things and I didn't say anything. Not that I was glad he was alive or that I'd be hurt if he died or that I cared about him or that I was there for him. Nothing. I even made a joke about his suicide note'.  
  
Hyeong-bae clears his throat like he's about to offer a gesture of comfort but Jiyong speaks first.  
  
'He asked me to leave and I did. I shouldn't have done that. Someone tells you they walked into traffic and tried to drown themselves, you don't leave them alone but I did. I was relieved'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I was _relieved,_ ' Jiyong answers. 'When I got in the car. When I got home. I didn't really want to stay. I thought I did but it's too much,' he says. 'It's too much for me to deal with. I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to _do_?'  
  
Hyeong-bae lays a hand on his thigh.  
  
'It's okay'.  
  
'No it's not. I've known him for half my life. Almost fifteen years. He told me all these things and I wanted to run away. Even now, I want to run away. I wish he never told me. Who thinks like that?' Jiyong asks. 'I can't even help the people I care about. He could have a knife to his throat right now and I should be there to stop him but I'm not. I'm here where I don't have to be responsible for him. What sort of person am I?'  
  
'A normal one?' Hyeong-bae offers. 'It's okay to be overwhelmed. News like that would come as a shock. Anyone would need time to--'  
  
'No,' Jiyong says. 'I knew. I knew a long time ago that this could happen, that he needed help and I didn't do anything. I thought my being there would somehow fix it or it would go away on its own. It's my fault. I didn't do anything. I could have but I didn't,' he says. 'I'm a bad person'.  
  
'Cut the shit,' Hyeong-bae answers, frustrated. 'You're not responsible for other people. You can't control how someone else feels. There's only so much you can do for another person. You said you were _there_ , so that's it. You did everything you could do. It's not your fault if that wasn't enough. You're not a _bad person_ '.  
  
Jiyong looks at Hyeong-bae for the first time since he sat down.  
  
'I'm happy for you,' he says quietly. 'I'm happy you got this job and you're looking forward to it. I should have said that earlier but I didn't. I was just surprised. It's going to be weird without you around but I'm happy for you. I am. Whatever you want to do, I'm on board. I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier'.  
  
He pulls himself up and kisses Hyeong-bae gently on the lips.  
  
'I'm proud of you'.  
  
Hyeong-bae seems taken aback by the sudden change of topic but kisses him back.  
  
'Yeah, alright'.  
  
He holds his fingers against Jiyong's cheek who catches them in his hand.  
  
'Sorry about your friend,' he says. 'I don't know what to do for you'.  
  
'Nothing,' Jiyong answers. 'I just want to forget about it. I want to stop thinking about it. Just for a while'.  
  
With his hand still on Jiyong's cheek, Hyeong-bae answers in harmless fun, 'Plenty of ways to get your mind off things. You know it's _been_ a few weeks since we---'.  
  
Jiyong groans.  
  
'It's been two and I couldn't, even if I wanted to'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'I doubt I could get it up,' Jiyong answers, embarrassed, shoving him away. 'I'm too fucking miserable'.  
  
'I don't know. I'm _very_ good,' Hyeong-bae states matter-of-factly.  
  
'I don't want to have sex'.  
  
Hyeong-bae wipes a hair from Jiyong's forehead and smiles. He stands suddenly, spurred into action by an unspoken idea. He pulls on Jiyong's wrist, forcing him to his feet.  
  
'Come with me,' He says.  
  
'Where?'  
  
'Bedroom'.  
  
'We're not having sex,' Jiyong reiterates.  
  
'Just come with me'.

 

 

* * *  


  
  
  
  
  
Curled up on his side with Hyeong-bae pressed behind him, Jiyong finds it hard to speak. His throat aches from holding back tears and he has to joke so he doesn't cry.  
  
'You're just going to cuddle me like a teddy bear?'  
  
'Is it making you feel better?'  
  
'A little'.  
  
When he was seven years old he fell out of a tree in the backyard and sprained his ankle. He limped back into the house, stoic and determined to block out the pain. Seven was old, ancient even. He was an adult then and grown-ups didn't cry. His mother was in the kitchen and seeing her, he felt pride in himself. _Look, I didn't cry. I'm okay.  
_  
When he told his mother what had happened, she swooped down and bundled him up, pulling him into her arms, _poor thing._ Despite his resolutions and the pain being only a 6/10, the second her arms folded around him, he fell apart. He cried his eyes out. She picked him up, even though he was too big and she was too small.   
  
There were certain kinds of pain that didn't hit you until you were being held or coddled; until you were in a safe place.  
  
Jiyong thinks of that now, his throat aching from trying to hold it in because suddenly, lying here in Hyeong-bae's arms, he wants nothing else but to cry until he has nothing left. He wonders how many nights Seunghyun cried the way he wants to now, or if he didn't have it in him. He doesn't know which is worse.   
  
Hyeong-bae's lips brush over the back of his neck.  
  
'Do you trust me?' he asks.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'Do you trust me?'  
  
'Of course'.  
  
'Let me do something for you'.  
  
Jiyong is startled by the sudden weight of Hyeong-bae's hand over his pants, over his haven't-bathed-in-two-days dick. He frowns, his eyes closing tighter.  
  
'I told you, I don't want to'.  
  
'Just let me try something, alright?'  
  
There's barely room but Jiyong offers no resistance and Hyeong-bae's hand dips beneath the waistband of his pants and briefs; his warm fingers folding loosely around his cock.  
  
Jiyong's face flushes from embarrassment. He wriggles back, trying ineffectually to slip away. Maybe it was childish but he wanted to be held, he liked it. Nothing more than that. Today of all days, he doesn't want to do this. He would rather dig his own grave through concrete than fool around.  
  
'I haven't had a shower in two days,' he says. 'I'm wearing my clothes from yesterday. I'm dirty and sweaty and I stink. I'm really not in the mood'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's answer is a kiss.   
  
Forced onto his back, Jiyong has no choice but to let it happen. Hyeong-bae is bold and sure of himself and there isn't one moment from their lips meeting that Jiyong can pull away so he allows the kiss and returns it, genuinely sorry for being an asshole, for not celebrating Hyeong-bae's news. In a small way it's his recompense for not congratulating Hyeong-bae on the new job with romance and passion because he deserves that.  
  
He deserves the kind of boyfriend who is present, who shares his excitement, who after two weeks of being unable to touch each other actually _wants_ to fuck. Instead, what Hyeong-bae has is a boyfriend who thinks increasingly about somebody else, who isn't supportive when it's called for, who flinches when touched.  
  
_I love you,_ Jiyong thinks, _but----_  
  
I love you, but.  
  
Hyeong-bae tightens his fist, finding a way to move his hand in the confined space of Jiyong's briefs. Even soft and uninterested, Jiyong's muscles tighten involuntarily.   
  
In his head, he hears Seunghyun saying, _'It worked, finally'._ He thinks about Seunghyun sinking slowly into a warm bath. He tries to picture the clothes he chose to die in. What ran through his mind when he opened his closet doors? How did he choose? When he left, he barely took anything with him. Were the clothes he wore in the bath pieces Jiyong had seen or did he go shopping specifically for nice sweaters to die in?  
  
Jiyong tries to imagine himself in Seunghyun's place. _If I had to die, I would want to be comfortable_ , he thinks. _I would wear something soft and loose._  
  
Hyeong-bae palms his cock and Jiyong closes his eyes. Intimacy feels like a betrayal. How long has it been since Seunghyun bared his weaknesses? A couple of hours? This is foreplay at the scene of an accident. This is fucking at a funeral.  
  
It doesn't feel good.  
  
He tries to pull out of the kiss but Hyeong-bae stays on him. When his hands move to Hyeong-bae's chest to try and separate them, he ignores them. It isn't until they break apart that Jiyong gets the chance to speak but Hyeong-bae anticipates him and speaks first.  
  
'Just let me, okay? Trust me. This isn't just sex, I promise. Give me some time'.  
  
Before Jiyong can protest, Hyeong-bae pulls his hand free and grabs the material of his pants, yanking them down until they're bunched around his thighs, briefs and all. He flushes, embarrassed. He feels humiliated, like an impotent child.   
  
_'_ Please, I don't want to fuck. I already told you. I'm not in the mood'.  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him in answer again, to quiet him, whispering between brief, light pecks, 'If you still don't want this in two minutes, I'll stop. Give me _two_ minutes'.  
  
Jiyong wants to remind him that he's not entitled to two minutes but he doesn't have the heart. He feels enfeebled suddenly and tired. Two minutes. The time it takes to water a plant or pack the dishwasher or sort through his bills. He can make it through two minutes.   
  
He should push him away and save himself the trouble but guilt still lingers in the back of his mind for a dozen mistakes he's made right up until the last on the couch an hour ago, when he looked into Hyeong-bae's face and showed he didn't care about his wishes or ambitions. He doesn't have the heart to reject him outright, let alone forcefully. He deserves better than that.   
  
So, Hyeong-bae kisses him, sweetly, gently--- which somehow makes it worse. He plants kisses across his neck and his jaw and the skin below his collar. Jiyong tries to stay present in the moment but his mind wanders to darker places.   
  
He sees Seunghyun.  
  
He sees him behind the wheel of a car and his face distorted by water. He sees him on the edge of a road with one foot stepping forward. He sees these images in his mind like scenes from a film he can't quite forget. He tries to replace them with better memories but they don't last.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves down the bed, sitting back on his heels. He pulls Jiyong's pants clean off.  
  
Forced back into the moment, Jiyong sighs inaudibly, frustrated.   
  
'Please, let’s just---'  
  
_Do something else. Take a walk. Watch a movie. Get some food. Anything._  
  
Hyeong-bae makes himself comfortable at the centre of the bed and leans down. It isn't until his warm heavy hand closes around Jiyong's cock again that Jiyong understands what he's about to do.   
  
'No,' he pleads. 'I haven't had a shower in _days_ , I'm disgusting, please don't do that. I'm serious, please---'  
  
Hyeong-bae takes his soft cock in his mouth anyway and even uninterested, the sudden warmth and wetness cuts Jiyong's words short. His muscles tense and his stomach tightens. His face flushes again, from embarrassment. He knows he stinks and that he must taste foul, but Hyeong-bae doesn't show it. He holds the base of his cock tightly and sucks him off like he's freshly showered and begging for it.  
  
To his credit, he moves fast. He pulls out every move Jiyong likes and puts to use every skill he's learned over the last few months and then some. Hyeong-bae doesn't just suck his dick, he strokes his inner thighs and teases him with light innocuous touches that build until Jiyong is half hard and Hyeong-bae is humming around his cock, satisfied with his efforts.  
  
Through the slow build of pleasure, Jiyong finds a way to be angry. He said _no_. He was miserable. He didn't want to do this and Hyeong-bae took that for a challenge instead of listening to what he was _saying._ _Have some respect for the mess of my life,_ Jiyong thinks. _Let me be miserable._  
  
Hyeong-bae takes him in all the way to the back of his throat without gagging and Jiyong knows it's pointless fighting him. Hyeong-bae's grip tightens around the base of his cock and he blows him like it's his job. The pressure builds. Jiyong's body betrays him. By the time Hyeong-bae's two minutes are up, he is achingly hard.  
  
With warm, wet lips around him, he groans, defeated.  
  
'I said no sex. _Fuck_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae raises his head with a smile  
  
'Just wait, alright? Wait and see. Trust me'.  
  
He crawls back up the bed on his hands and knees.   
  
Jiyong allows the kiss that follows and _allows_ Hyeong-bae's heavy hand, which slides back into place, stroking his dick. He gives a nice, firm twist and Jiyong's back arches off the bed, pushing him further into Hyeong-bae's body.  
  
From here he can smell his shampoo and his cologne and through the haze of his anger, Jiyong yearns to kiss his neck and jaw; to bite him and taste his skin.  
  
'Your two minutes are up. Do you want me to stop?'  
  
‘Don’t talk,' Jiyong answers. 'I'm mad at you'.  
  
_'Alright'._  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him again and lifts Jiyong's shirt around his armpits, breaking the chain of kisses to pull it over his head. Jiyong tugs on Hyeong-bae's shirt and that goes soon after.  
  
Completely naked, Jiyong is achingly hard and resigned to let Hyeong-bae have his way. His body wants this, so he'll do It. He'll even enjoy it. Maybe if they fuck, he'll stop thinking about Seunghyun. He'll stop seeing him in shades of grey and in caskets and in framed photos beside floral wreathes.   
  
'Take your pants off,' Jiyong whispers urgently.  
  
Hyeong-bae acquiesces and Jiyong scoffs at his flushed cock springing back against his stomach.   
  
'Eager?'  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him briefly.  
  
'Very'.  
  
After that, it all happens quickly. Hyeong-bae has the lube and the condom and his shirt is discarded. In what feels like mere moments, heavy fingers are inside him, stretching him, preparing him while Jiyong thinks of Seunghyun on the floor of his apartment.

 

{ _Do you wish he hadn't saved you?  
  
Sometimes. Not all the time. }_

 

'That's enough,' Jiyong says quickly, though he knows it isn't. He wants this to hurt, just a little. He wants this to take him over. He wants there to be pain. He wants Hyeong-bae's heavy body pressed against him so tightly he can barely breathe.  
  
He watches Hyeong-bae stroke his dick and roll the condom on. He watches, detached, as his thighs are pushed back and Hyeong-bae lines himself up.  
  
When he pushes forward, it hurts.  
  
Not a lot, but a little. His fingernails dig into Hyeong-bae's knee and it takes time but the discomfort subsides and when it does, he misses it. When there is pain, he doesn't see Seunghyun or hear his voice in his head.

 

_{ Did it help, going away?  
  
No.  
  
So It was all for nothing? }_

  
  
Hyeong-bae's thrusts are gentle and slow. His thumbs trace circles over Jiyong's waist and his movements are precise and calculated. He fucks him like a husband fucks his wife on their 10 th anniversary; like there are rose petals on the sheets and bubbles filling up the bath. He fucks him like he wants to read him sonnets over wine and talk late into the night about their hopes and dreams.  
  
Jiyong pulls him down until he's a heavy weight on top of him and digs his fingernails into his back. He digs them deep enough to hurt him.  
  
_'Fuck_ me,' he pleased. 'Fuck me _harder_ '.  
  
He wants to be fucked like they are freshly broken up, like this one last fuck is how they will exorcise their hurt and their anger. He wants marks to be left on him and to leave marks of his own.   
  
'Come on, _fuck_ me'.  
  
Hyeong-bae moans a small, almost animal-like sound and buries his face into Jiyong's neck, biting down into the soft skin below his ear.

 

 

_{ On my worst days, you were all I had.  
  
I loved you.  
  
I never stopped }_

 

 

After that, Hyeong-bae fucks him the way Jiyong needs. His fingers dig into the flesh of his hips hard enough to leave marks. He fucks him hard and fast, without thought or control, spurred on by Jiyong's nails in his back and his quiet exhalations of, _'fuck, yes, harder'_.  
  
Hyeong-bae grunts and sweats and Jiyong bites his shoulder. He wraps his legs around him and disappears into the moment, into the feel of Hyeong-bae inside him, each hard thrust almost knocking the air from his lungs.  
  
His back pulls against the sheets and his hair gets caught beneath Hyeong-bae's palm. Each thrust and jolt of their bodies sparks a sharp pain at the roots and Jiyong likes it. The tinge of pain heightens his pleasure and for a little while, it's easy to forget any single moment that came before this.  
  
Then Hyeong-bae slows to kiss him, the same old way, like they're lovers reincarnated. Like they are soulmates and this is the end. It's strangely sentimental and Jiyong hates it. It isn't what he wants or what he needs. Not today.  
  
'I want to try something with you,' Hyeong-bae says, his face turning pink.   
  
'What?'  
  
'Something I did with my girlfriend a long time ago. I think you'll like it,' he answers. 'Have you ever,' his hand falls gently over Jiyong's neck and presses down slightly, 'had someone put pressure here while you were fucking?'  
  
'No,' Jiyong answers, pushing his hand away, 'and I don't want to'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Why don't I want you to choke me?' Jiyong asks, frustrated. 'It doesn't matter. I don't want to'.  
  
'You don't trust me?'  
  
'It's not about trust. I just don't _want_ to'.  
  
The same as earlier, Hyeong-bae listens but doesn't hear. Some part of him thinks he knows better, that Jiyong's objections are opportunities. It doesn't matter that he conceded to their fucking, that he wanted it hard and rough, there are limits, even now.   
  
'Please,' Hyeong-bae whispers, kissing his neck. 'I'll be gentle. You'll be able to breathe the whole time. I promise you. If you don't like it, I'll stop. Just let me try. I know you'll like it. It will get your mind off things’.  
  
Jiyong feels a swell of frustration.  
  
'I said no'.  
  
'You said you trusted me? You think I'm going to hurt you?'  
  
'No, of _course_ not I just—-'  
  
'Then let me try it. That's all. We can stop any time'.  
  
'But I---'  
  
Hyeong-bae's hand closes around his jaw with a little too much pressure before kissing his pursed lips. It's an almost forceful gesture, born from nowhere. His face and eyes still gentle and sentimental, his hand is a separate entity.  
  
'Please'.

  
  
_{ If you're happy.  
  
If this guy you're dating loves you and you love him back  
  
Then I'm happy for you. }_

 

 

Jiyong pushes Hyeong-bae's hand away, irritated, feeling a faint residual pain from his overzealous grip.  
  
_'Fine'._  
  
Hyeong-bae kisses him in gratitude but Jiyong doesn't kiss him back, not really. He doesn't want to do this, for a thousand reasons he's never needed to consider before this moment. He's heard enough about it, enough friends have told him stories. He's not naïve or ignorant. He's never wanted to do this, he's never wanted someone's hand on his throat, least of all during sex. When he was with Seunghyun, they never strayed too far from the conventional. He never wanted anything more than what he had.  
  
He flinches in surprise when Hyeong-bae first moves, when he starts fucking him again without caution or restraint. Hyeong-bae waits for him to become unguarded again before he bows forward, far enough to reach his throat and still have mobility.  
  
His fingers fall across Jiyong's neck, above his adams apple, beneath his chin.   
  
'I'm going to press down gently, okay? You'll still be able to breathe and talk, just not as well. Say stop any time'.  
  
Jiyong nods, his lips pursed shut.  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls his hips and at the same time, applies pressure, upwards beneath his chin. For a moment Jiyong panics. His next breath comes a little harder. He envisions his own crushed windpipe and one cold lifeless body. His breaths come fast and shallow.  
  
'It's okay. You can still breathe. Right?'  
  
It takes Jiyong a few seconds to make a quiet sound of affirmation.  
  
_I can breathe._  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls his hips and Jiyong tries to focus on that, on the way he moves inside him, on the pull and the building pleasure in his gut. He focusses on Hyeong-bae's face above him but he's surprised by what he sees.   
  
Hyeong-bae looks happy, blissfully lost in what he's doing. His lips are parted and his face flushed. In all their months together, Jiyong has never seen him look so--- _enamoured._ This is what does it for him? He likes this stuff? Did he choke his girlfriend? What else did they do?  
  
Jiyong tries not to think about that. He tries to focus on Hyeong-bae's chest in front of him, on the way his body looks in the midday light.   
  
The grip around his neck tightens almost imperceptibly and Jiyong feels a surge of panic once more. He beats it back as quick as it comes. He casts lines out into every corner of his mind, searching for things to distract him, anything to ground him and quell his panic.  
  
_He's not going to hurt you. Calm down._  
  
He remembers his third-grade teacher and the way she did her hair. He remembers the time his father cooked a meal at Christmas when his mother was sick and how awful it tasted. He remembers the first time he saw Gaho as a puppy, his eyes barely opened.  
  
Between these sporadic thoughts, he becomes aware of his throbbing dick, taut against his stomach, still hard, even lying neglected. He feels a pang of dismay at the possibility he might enjoy this, that he might get off on being choked. When he concentrates, he _can_ feel it. The pleasure of being fucked is heightened, just a little. His cock responds a little faster, he feels a little warmer. Everything amplified by the smallest degrees.  
  
He feels everything more, or maybe that's the rest of the world being shut out as his focus narrows to the hand around his throat and Hyeong-bae moving inside him, increasingly irregular.   
  
When things change, they change fast.  
  
The pressure on his neck grows. The fingers around his throat tighten again so he can barely breathe at all and that's the end of it. The experiment is over. He isn't indulging Hyeong-bae's whims any more. He grabs Hyeong-bae's hand to loosen his grip. It takes only moments. His neck is released and he can breathe again. He feels a swell of relief but it's short lived.   
  
Hyeong-bae bows further down and redistributes his weight. With the back of one arm on the mattress to keep him steady, his other falls over Jiyong's neck. His forearm moves into the groove beneath his chin, replacing the hand that had begun to choke him in earnest.  
  
_No, no, no._  
  
Before Jiyong can say a word, Hyeong-bae's forearm pushes upwards beneath his jaw, so tightly he can barely breathe let alone stop him. He would give anything to stop him. Even with the rational part of his mind begging himself to calm down, ' _He loves you, he's not going to hurt you,_ ' each is countered by a swift, _'but I can't breathe'._  
  
Hampered by his new position, Hyeong-bae still finds a way to fuck him, even with his arm pressed against Jiyong's throat. His movements are sporadic and stilted, his face growing a deeper shade of red by the second.   
  
Jiyong's lungs start to burn. He digs his fingernails into Hyeong-bae's arm but it only encourages him. His humiliation growing, through the panic and dull pain, Jiyong's cock twitches against his stomach. Hyeong-bae feels good inside him, every sensation is heightened and amplified. His mind struggles to decide where to go--- panic or pleasure.  
  
His heart pounds in his chest. He feels blood rushing to his face. His breaths come out in a rattle.   
  
For a moment, he feels like falling asleep and the panic that inspires has him clawing at Hyeong-bae's arm until he loosens his hold. Jiyong gets in one heaving gasp and then he's cut off again.  
  
'It's okay,' Hyeong-bae whispers. 'Don't panic. You're alright. Just focus on how you feel. You're getting close. Focus on that. It won't be long. You'll be okay. Trust me'.  
  
Jiyong wants to hurt Hyeong-bae. He wants to _kill_ him but he doesn't have the energy. The hand that isn't trying to pull the flesh from Hyeong-bae's arm is clutching desperately at the sheets.  
  
Hyeong-bae fucks him faster and clumsier.   
  
_He's getting close,_ Jiyong thinks. _This will be over soon._  
  
But soon is a lifetime.  
  
His vision blurs and his lungs _burn_. In some far-off part of his mind, protected from the fatigue and adrenaline fighting over his body, he realises he's probably close himself. He can feel his dick swell and burn and ache. He feels that familiar warmth in his gut. His thighs tremble and his stomach tightens.  
  
Hyeong-bae relieves the pressure around his neck enough for Jiyong to gulp down another heaving gasp of air, then his arm is pressed so tightly under his jaw he can't even get in the faint trickle he could before.   
  
He can't breathe at all.  
  
His fingernails dig into Hyeong-bae's arm and his eyes clench tight. His head pounds and his chest burns. He is terrified. This isn't panic any more, this is fear, the kind he hasn't felt since Hyeong-bae hauled him off his bathroom floor a year ago.  
  
_Fuck. Please ----_  
  
Jiyong's back arches off the bed and his fingernails dig into Hyeong-bae so tightly he could peel the flesh from his bones, if he only had the strength--- but he doesn't. It's almost like pins and needles. It starts that way. His limbs seem to go--- _fuzzy._ His fingers drop from Hyeong-bae's arm and fall to the wayside, then he can barely feel them at all.  
  
Everything in his head goes quiet and still.  
  
_'That's it, cum for me'._  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
His whole body erupts into flames. That what it feels like. Hyeong-bae's arm is gone. Feeling rushes back into his limbs and noise shatters his quiet, so _loud_ his own heaving gasps almost deafen him.   
  
'That's it. You're alright. You're okay'.  
  
Sucking in huge lungfuls of air, Jiyong is aware in the deepest recess of his mind, that Hyeong-bae's fingers are tightening around his hips; that he's grunting the way he does when he's about to cum. His thrusts become stilted but rapid until he goes quiet and stills.  
  
Jiyong feels him cum.  
  
And then it's over.  
  
He keeps his eyes closed. He tries to touch his neck, to touch the ache in his throat but he can barely move his fingers. His limbs are dead weight.   
  
'Hey,' Hyeong-bae says. 'You're okay. Open your eyes. Look at me'.  


 

_{ Do you think I'm going to hurt you?  
  
No, of course not }_

 

  
  
Hyeong-bae's smiling face is what Jiyong sees when he finally opens his eyes, when the pain in his chest begins to subside and his heaving gasps for air devolve into something quieter, but no less urgent.  
  
Hyeong-bae is smiling, his face flushed and sweaty. He pulls out but doesn't move aside. His thumb brushes across Jiyong's neck and Jiyong flinches.  
  
'Didn't that feel _amazing?_ '

Jiyong's lips part to answer but nothing comes out except for one choked sob that burns his throat. He covers his face feebly with his heavy arms and tries not to cry. His mind is empty. He's not thinking about anything at all; not about Seunghyun trying to die or Hyeong-bae's smiling face or the residual pain in his chest. He just chokes back stifled sobs.  
  
_'Shit'._  
  
The bed dips and Hyeong-bae's weight disappears until moments later he returns, with his boxers on and a washer in his hand. It isn't until the warm wet towel touches Jiyong's stomach that he looks down and sees his softening cock.  
  
_He choked me until I passed out, and I came._  
  
Somehow, that's the final indignity. Jiyong lets go. With his arms over his face, he tries not to show his tears, he tries to control them but he _has_ no control. His tears aren't emotional, they're physical. They are the after effects, with the trembling in his arms and legs and the ache in his chest.  
  
Hyeong-bae lays a hand on him.  
  
'Are you alright? Hey, it's okay. You're fine. Talk to me'.  
  
When Jiyong has enough of his strength back to shove him away, he does.  
  
'Don't _touch_ me'.  
  
'Whoa,' Hyeong-bae whispers. 'Jiyong. I thought you would like it? I'm sorry'.  
  
Jiyong pushes him feebly away. He doesn't have the strength to do it earnestly but Hyeong-bae sees what he's trying to do and obliges. He puts space between them until he's sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
Jiyong drags himself up against the headboard and tries not to look at his trembling fingers. His hands loosely cling to his neck. When he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse and foreign and weak. His mind is already distancing itself from what just happened.  
  
'Get out'.  
  
'Alright,' Hyeong-bae whispers.  
  
'Out of the _apartment'._  
  
'What? Wait, just listen to---'  
  
' _Get out'._  
  
'Where do you want me to go?'  
  
'I don't _care,_ ' Jiyong snaps. 'Go for a fucking walk. I don't _care_ '.  
  
Hyeong-bae's face falls and he fumbles for the right words to say before rightly deciding he doesn't have any good enough. He slips off the bed and pulls his clothes off the floor.  
  
'Alright, I'm going'.  


  


*

 

 

 

When the front door closes five minutes later, Jiyong doesn't fall apart. He pulls the blankets over his body and rolls onto his side. He thinks about the woman who ran the motel at Jirisan. He thinks about a song left half-composed on his laptop. He thinks about Gaho at his parents pension. He has to pick him up tomorrow.  
  
He doesn't think about what just happened.   
  
He can't.  
  
Instead, his mind wanders to Seunghyun as the lesser of two evils. With the ache in his throat, he has a merciful period of clarity. He doesn't cry about what might have happened in Japan or the myriad ways he failed as a boyfriend. He pulls his phone off the bedside table and searches for _'depression_ **'** and how you're supposed to help somebody in trouble.  
  
At the end of a dozen websites he feels just as helpless but at the same time knows what little he _can_ do, he will. Even if all that means is spending time with him, trying to find a way to rebuild their friendship. Food, television, music. There are ways. There have to be.  
  
  


  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  


Four hours later Jiyong is freshly showered on Seunghyun's doorstep with a new phone in his pocket. After he showered and ate, he got in the car and found himself outside an electronics store. Without fully piecing it together, he walked out ten minutes later with a brand-new phone and a misguided plan. He wanted to knock and explain it to Seunghyun in person, so it wouldn't seem so callous or selfish but now that he's staring at the heavy door, he can't quite do it.  
  
_I'll tell him via text. After I figure out the right way to explain._  
  
He pulls the receipt from his pocket and pads around his jacket for a pen, he usually keeps one on him, for jotting down lyrics or music. Moments later, scrawling his harried note on the back of a receipt, pen scratching against the door, he stumbles forward suddenly, landing on his hands and knees.  
  
Seunghyun stands in the now-open door with his eyebrow raised.  
  
'What are you doing?'  
  
Jiyong picks himself off the doorstep and smooths down his hair, trying to regain a semblance of dignity.  
  
'Writing you a note'.  
  
'Why didn't you knock?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs, like a fool.  
  
'I didn't know if you would want to see me yet'.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his eyes and takes a step back so there is enough space for him to enter if he wants to. Jiyong tries not to read too much into the invitation or how freely he's giving it.  
  
'You know everything now, there's no point hiding from you'.  
  
'Right. I guess not'.  
  
Seunghyun stands there in a pair of linen trousers and a white t-shirt. He gestures for Jiyong to come in. His hair is messy like he's been sleeping and there's a faint crease on his cheek from a pillow. It's a familiar sight. It puts Jiyong strangely at ease.  
  
Jiyong picks his receipt off the ground where he dropped it and steps into the apartment, making a bee-line for the couch where he summarily plants himself like he belongs there.   
  
'What are you doing, anyway?' Seunghyun asks. 'I spoke to you six hours ago'.  
  
Jiyong looks up from the couch and shrugs.  
  
'I was in the neighbourhood and I wanted to give you something'.  
  
'Oh, God'.  
  
Seunghyun groans, anticipating something awful. He steps over Jiyong's legs and plants himself tiredly on the far end of the couch. There is a blanket on the floor and a pillow. It's obvious this is where he was sleeping. There is a movie paused on the TV.  
  
'It's nothing bad,' Jiyong answers quietly, pulling the phone from his pocket. 'It's a phone number'.  
  
'For what?'  
  
'For me?' Jiyong answers. 'I bought a new phone'.  
  
He flips the phone around to the number on the back, cast in black against a small white sticker. He holds it up and taps it twice.  
  
'Yeah, I can see it's a phone number,' Seunghyun smiles. 'What happened to your old phone?'  
  
Jiyong slides the phone back into his pocket and crosses one leg over the other. He wonders how to explain what he's done or what he wants without sounding like a maniac or making things worse. Seunghyun, astonishingly enough, seems okay considering his grandmother just died and all his secrets have been loosed upon the world.  
  
'Nothing,' Jiyong answers bluntly. 'This phone is just for your messages'.  
  
_A phone my boyfriend won't know about, so I can talk to you without him finding out, because I_ have _to talk to you,_ Jiyong thinks. _  
_  
'I want to ask you a favour,' he continues. 'And you have no reason to say yes or to humour me, and please don't take what I'm about to ask you the wrong way'.  
  
'What do you want?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'I want you to send me a txt,' Jiyong asks. 'Two, really. One when you wake up in the morning, the other before you go to sleep'.  
  
Seunghyun's face contorts in confusion.  
  
'Why do you want me to---'  
  
Then he understands. Jiyong braces himself but Seunghyun only laughs mutedly.   
  
'Oh, God,' he mutters. 'You want me to text you every day so you know I haven't killed myself'.  
  
It isn't a question. He knows that's why. Jiyong blushes for having asked him but an hour ago, it seemed like a novel solution to his fears. Even now, with Seunghyun laughing in his face, he doesn't exactly regret asking.   
  
Seunghyun shrugs and gestures for Jiyong's phone. When he hands it over, Seunghyun disappears with it, coming back moments later with his own. When he sits back down, he has a phone in each hand, copying the number on the little white sticker into his contacts.  
  
When he hands Jiyong his phone back, it's with a simple, 'Alright'.  
  
'Alright? You're going to do it?'  
  
'Will it make you feel better?'  
  
'A little'.  
  
'Then I'll do it. It's fine'.  
  
It's such a strange and unexpected moment, Jiyong laughs quietly.  
  
'What do you want me to say?' Seunghyun asks. 'Do you want full status updates? Good Morning's and Good Night's? Interesting facts I've come across?'  
  
‘Interesting facts,' Jiyong nods. 'Words of the day. I like to learn a new thing every day. You know that'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles down at his own phone and then drops it on the coffee table.  
  
There is silence between them.  
  
Jiyong wants to ask him how he's doing, how he's coping _the day after_. So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours it seems impossible for either of them to be in one piece, but here they are, together. No tears. No cracks.  
  
Part of him knows that asking will ruin the illusion and Seunghyun has bared enough of his soul for one lifetime. If he wants to talk, he can, otherwise Jiyong won't say a word. Not today at least. They've done enough talking to last them quite a while. Instead, he pulls his feet up on the coffee table and folds his arms across his chest. He looks at the paused film on the screen, an unforgiving screengrab of a white actor mid-speech.  
  
'What are we watching?'   
  
Seunghyun doesn't object to Jiyong's shoes on the coffee table or his obvious intention to stick around. He just pulls the blanket off the floor and shares it between them, picking the remote up off the armrest. He kicks his feet up beside Jiyong's, his bare toes beside Jiyong's shoes.  
  
'Gattaca,' he says.   


 

* * *  
  
  
  


By the time Jiyong gets home, it's almost midnight. Hyeong-bae is sitting on the couch in the dim light given off by the television. Seeing him there in the hallway, Hyeong-bae rounds the couch in mere seconds and drops to his knees on the floorboards by Jiyong's feet.  
  
'Where have you been? Fuck, I'm so sorry. _I'm sorry'_.  
  
Jiyong looks down at him, startled by the display. He knows what happened but his mind built walls around the memory so quickly, he can barely remember his anger, only the residual traces.  
  
'It's alright,' he answers quietly. 'Get off the floor'.  
  
'It's not alright,' Hyeong-bae says, staying put. 'Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you or-- scare you or-- '  
  
Jiyong grabs the shoulder of Hyeong-bae's sweatshirt and yanks him up.  
  
'I believe you,' he says.  
  
'We won't do that again,' Hyeong-bae rambles. 'Fuck I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so stupid. It's just that you were having a hard time and years ago, with my ex, we got into that sort of thing? Whenever I needed an escape, that always helped me. I thought it would be good for you? I never thought you would react the way you did'.  
  
Jiyong clamps a hand over Hyeong-bae's mouth, feeling a vague nausea in his stomach he tries to quell through denial.  
  
'It's fine,' Jiyong says. 'It's fine. We're okay'. He kicks his shoes off and sighs quietly. 'I just went out with some friends. I feel better now. It's done'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks doubtful that everything is fine, that Jiyong could possibly feel better after forcing him to leave, but he doesn't want to jinx it or tempt fate, so he does the only thing he can. He takes him at his word.  
  
They hug but don't kiss and they fall asleep in the same bed, both clinging to their respective edges.  
  
Jiyong goes to sleep but doesn't dream.

  
  
  
  
* * *  


  
  
  
When Jiyong wakes in the morning he will find a txt on his new phone, tucked into an old jacket in the back of his closet for safekeeping.  


“Good Morning”.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

  
  
  
For the first few days after Seunghyun's grandmother dies, after Hyeong-bae's hand tightens around Jiyong's throat, not much happens. Seunghyun sends his daily texts twice a day like he promised and Hyeong-bae tip-toes around the apartment.  
  
Hyeong-bae tries to talk about what happened between them and Jiyong declines each time saying, _'there's nothing to talk about'_. It was a misunderstanding and bad timing asides and for a dozen reasons he doesn't want to talk about it. Jiyong brushes off each apology and call to _sit down and talk_ until Hyeong-bae starts his new job and the awkward atmosphere between them is inevitably buried.  
  
Like that, he avoids it entirely.   
  
Seunghyun is another story.

 

 

 

*

 

 

In the aftermath of Seunghyun's confession, Jiyong flounders.  
  
After the incident with Hyeong-bae it seemed easy to step outside himself and take action. It was easy to buy a second phone and knock on Seunghyun's door and face the truth of what happened to their relationship and why.   
  
The day after it was _less_ easy.  
  
The day after that, impossible.  
  
When Jiyong wakes on the third day, he thinks about Seunghyun being dead. After that moment he is never _not_ dead. When Jiyong thinks of him, he is cold and pale or under water or lying in a foreign road. These thoughts paralyse him. Each _Good Morning_ and _Good Night_ becomes a prelude to Seunghyun's inevitable suicide.  
  
That one moment of imagination sparks a succession of similar thoughts that bring Jiyong to his knees. After he's seen it once he can't stop seeing it. When he closes his eyes, when he dreams, when he loses himself for one second--- he watches Seunghyun die.  
  
It changes everything.  
  
Jiyong wonders if he's capable of tipping the scales. Seunghyun told him, ' _on my worst days you were all I had'._ That makes him wonder. If he says or does the wrong thing, will Seunghyun die? If he gets involved, can he make things worse?  
  
Like that, he buckles. It takes almost nothing to break him. Once he allows that shred of doubt in, fear follows in spades. He becomes terrified of doing the wrong thing or doing nothing at all, of not making a difference, of getting close to Seunghyun only to lose him. Jiyong lets fear cloud his judgement. He lets it take over.  
  
He doesn't know _how_ to help Seunghyun. He doesn't think he can. He crumbles. Knowing he has to _do_ something doesn't put words in his mouth or ideas in his head. He doesn't wake up braver or more responsible or less afraid that giving credence to Seunghyun's suicide attempts will make them real.  
  
So, Seunghyun sends his messages and Jiyong reads them but they go unanswered. When Jiyong closes his eyes and pictures Seunghyun, he is never not dead. When he reads each message, Seunghyun looms in his mind and he is always, _always_ dead.   
  
Each time, it fills Jiyong with dread and makes him that much more impotent, that much more incapable of dealing with Seunghyun's problems, of facing them head on, of thinking rationally. Suddenly, it is easier to think of him as already being dead. It is easier than to live in anticipation of his suicide, or the agony of wondering what to do to keep him alive.  
  
For a dozen reasons, he buckles.  
  
Seunghyun sends his messages and instead of answering, Jiyong bites his nails and sleeps late and tries to see Seunghyun the way he used to be, when the letters they left for each other were notes on the fridge instead of suicide letters in sealed envelopes.   
  
It's selfish but it's easier and like this, he manages to avoid Seunghyun entirely for seven days.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When his second phone rings a week after the fact, tucked away in the back of his closet, there is only one person it could be. Jiyong knows when he answers that Seunghyun's familiar staccato voice will travel down the line. Because of that he thinks about letting it ring out.  
  
Standing in his closet, he remembers Seunghyun on the night they first slept together, the way he held his hand and made him laugh. The way he filled the room. The way Jiyong knew he loved him months before he could admit it.  
  
Because of that, he answers.  
  
_'It happened today'._  
  
When Seunghyun speaks, Jiyong closes his eyes and pictures him being dead.  
  
_'They cremated her. I didn't go'._  
  
Though he barely says ten words, it feels like a thousand tumbling out all at once.   
  
_'Come over'._  
  
Jiyong pauses in the dark of his closet with the phone pressed to his ear. He imagines himself in a box being trundled into an oven. His face heats up and he becomes claustrophobic.  
  
'Alright'.

  
  


*

  
  


Seunghyun fidgets under Jiyong's gaze. He stands in the middle of his lounge-room with a nice suit on and his hair, grown back now, coiffed into something recognisable. He is wearing cufflinks Jiyong bought him three years ago in Paris.  
  
'You were going to go?' Jiyong asks. 'To the service?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'What happened?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
'Couldn't'.  
  
He loosens his tie and shrugs off his jacket. Beneath his shirt, Jiyong can see Seunghyun's chest rise and fall. He looks thin and waif, the way he did when he first came back from Japan. His clothes barely fit. Jiyong wonders how seven days can make such a difference. He wants to say, _'everything will be alright,'_ but he doesn't.   
  
He's afraid that if he speaks without being spoken to, Seunghyun will ask him why he hasn't called or accuse him of being unfeeling.   
  
Instead, Jiyong watches Seunghyun in silence. He watches him pace and grimace and shed his layers, his tie and shoes and watch. Jiyong watches him sit and stand then sit again while the Seunghyun in his head disappears into the ground.  
  
'She's really gone now,' Seunghyun says wearily. 'Yesterday at least, she was a physical person. She existed. Now she's gone. I should have been there'. He flicks his wrist as if to say, _now she's dust._  
  
Jiyong looks away, unable to tell Seunghyun what he needs to hear. It's okay that he didn't go. Remembering the twenty-eight years they spent together is how he remembers her, not a morbid farewell in a crematorium.  
  
_It's okay if you couldn't go. It doesn't matter._  
  
Seunghyun turns to face him in the wake of his silence.  
  
'Are you okay?'   
  
'Me?' Jiyong asks.  
  
When he first heard Seunghyun's grandmother was dying, Jiyong sat beside him and held his hand. He said, _no matter what, we're family_. Things are different now. They are different because Seunghyun is fragile and breakable and if Jiyong touches him, if he says the wrong words, he will die.  
  
'I'm fine'.  
  
'I'm sorry I asked you to come over. I shouldn't have done that,' Seunghyun says flatly. 'Old habits'.  
  
Jiyong keeps his eyes on the ground.

 

 

*

  


When it's all said and done, they don't talk about what happened between them seven days ago. They don't talk about Seunghyun's confession or his suicide note or the rest of it. They don't talk about the fact that Jiyong _knows_ his secret and is doing nothing to help him.  
  
Jiyong wonders if Seunghyun held out for so long because he was afraid of _this_. Afraid he would spill his nightmares and weaknesses and vulnerabilities only for him to look the other way.   


 

_* * *_

 

 

The next day Seunghyun's messages come as normal, one in the morning and one at night. Jiyong anticipates them and is grateful when they arrive but he doesn't respond.  
  
He doesn't know how.  
  
Over the next few days, he talks to Hyeong-bae less and stops answering his phone. He replies to friends and family’s texts with the bare minimum. He goes days without showering and doesn't shave. He forgets to eat. He chain smokes and runs on the treadmill to clear his mind. In five days, he loses six pounds.  
  
He thinks about Seunghyun being dead.

  


_* * *_

  


On the ninth day, Hyeong-bae comes home three hours late, smelling of dust and sweat, beer and cigarettes. He kisses Jiyong in the doorway, says _'we'll talk tomorrow,'_ and falls face down on the mattress, falling asleep in moments.  
  
Jiyong stands in the doorway watching him for almost an hour.  
  
He doesn't know why.

 

 

_* * *_

 

 

On the tenth day, Jiyong calls the office but every studio is booked, every room, every possible place he can go to while away time, to distract himself, to hide; to work. He tries the home studio. He plays with an old beat, rewrites a song and then rewrites the rewrite. He spends two hours in the windowless room, trying to beat back the silence and the voices in his head and the mental images and the self-reproach.  
  
When there is silence, he thinks of Seunghyun trying to kill himself. He feels hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. He feels guilt and shame for things he doesn't even understand. It is relentless.  
  
Being static is a kind of slow death.  
  
With Seunghyun suffering across town and Hyeong-bae finding his independence, Jiyong feels like he's grasping at air. Like he has no control. He feels like a mote of dust.   
  
He feels impotent.

 

 

_* * *_

 

 

On the fifteenth day (after Seunghyun's grandmother dies and Seunghyun confesses, the morning text doesn't come. There is no good morning, no star, no hashtag, no nothing. Jiyong spends five hours biting his fingernails into non-existence before he calls.  
  
While it rings, Seunghyun is already dead.  
  
Jiyong doesn't have the luxury of feeling relieved when he _answers_ because Seunghyun is crying his heart out so intensely he can barely breathe. He reminds Jiyong of children who cry until they throw up or pass out from exhaustion.  
  
He has no choice but to listen.  
  
In the midst of his tears, Seunghyun equates the choices he made to murder _._ Not being there when his grandmother died, not seeing her when he was able to, in his eyes, becomes equal to pulling the trigger. His guilt transcends all rational thought. Jiyong tries to talk sense into him but it's no use. All he can do is stand there with the phone to his ear, his jaw aching from the way he grinds his teeth at every word.  
  
When Seunghyun finally goes quiet, when he has worn himself out, Jiyong answers with words so impersonal and inadequate he might have said nothing at all.  
  
'You didn't kill her'.  
  
'I know'.

 

  
  
*  


That night, in his dreams, Seunghyun isn't just dead.  
  
He kills him.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
On the sixteenth day, Jiyong searches for a pair of sunglasses he misplaced weeks earlier. When he finds them, they are in a box in the hall cupboard with old receipts and a photograph from a concert years earlier. Scrawled in marker on the bottom is the word, 'Yokohama'.  
  
In the photo, the five of them are together with dancers crowding in behind them. Shiny scraps of ribbon fall from the ceiling to conceal Seunghyun's face. It's a cosmic conspiracy. It feels to Jiyong as if time, sensing impending disaster is travelling backwards, erasing him prematurely from existence.  
  
He bites his nails.  
  
He runs.  
  
He thinks about Seunghyun being dead.  
  
  
  


  
_* * *_

 

 

On the nineteenth day, Hyeong-bae comes home from work with a small box wrapped in silk ribbon. He is unaware of the changing mood in the house because he works more than he's around. Any distance between them is put down to the learning curve--- the two of them finding a new routine. (What blame there is, he has placed on himself, promising to spend real time together on weekends. _This isn't forever,_ he says.)  
  
Inside the box is a bracelet.  
  
A gift.   
  
Jiyong turns the chain over in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. It is gold and engraved and the first thing Hyeong-bae has bought him with his own money. It's expensive and personal and nice.  
  
'This looks pricey'.  
  
'I did a few cash in hand jobs last week,' Hyeong-bae explains. 'Not exactly legal. Do you like it? It's the best I could do on a budget'.  
  
Jiyong keeps his eyes on the gold in his hand. Three weeks ago, he would have thrown himself into Hyeong-bae's arms and kissed him a thousand times for this gesture. For the first time in a year, he has his _own_ money and this is what he chose to do with it.  
  
Jiyong clutches the bracelet and wishes he didn't feel so disconnected. He wishes he didn't feel so _stuck_ and impotent. He can feel unsaid things clawing at his throat, trying to get out but when his lips part there is nothing. He feels trapped behind a brick wall, 5 inches too far back for anything to reach him.  
  
He flinches at the sudden touch of Hyeong-bae's palm against his jaw, fingers lifting his chin like a parent would a child.  
  
'You don't like it?'  
  
Jiyong shakes his head and slides an arm around Hyeong-bae's neck like he knows he is supposed to, like he knows he would if he wasn't trapped in his head.  
  
He kisses Hyeong-bae's neck and holds him because he doesn't know what else to do.  
  
'No, I love it. Thank-you'.

 

 

_* * *_

  
  


On the twentieth day, Jiyong weighs himself.  
  
He has lost ten pounds now.  
  
Since Seunghyun confessed, they have only spoken three times.  
  
When Jiyong thinks of him, he is never not dead.

 

_* * *_

 

 

'I think my hair is falling out'.  
  
Jiyong pulls at a knot in his hair and a number of strands follow his fingers out. His sister sits on a chair in the middle of the room and looks up from her laptop long enough to cringe and wave her hand at the bin.  
  
'Don't drop that on the floor,' she says. 'You're not losing your hair. You haven't brushed it. Of course it's going to come out when you run your hands through. Take a shower. Wash it. Brush it. Problem solved'.  
  
Jiyong wilts where he is, perched on the workbench at the back of her shop. He hasn't seen her in months but today is Seunghyun's birthday and he isn't sure what to do. He feels like he's suffocating. His nerves are frayed. He has bitten his fingernails so far down he has nothing left to bite.  
  
'You should get a haircut,' she says. 'I'm going to the salon this afternoon, you should come with me. Your hair has never been this long before. It's time for a snip,' she says, making scissors with her fingers.  
  
'You don't like it?' Jiyong asks, pulling a few strands down straight. His hair reaches below his armpits. 'I thought it might keep me youthful'.  
  
'You look like John Lennon. It makes you look old'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his unwashed hair into a bun at the back of his head. His shoulders slump.  
  
Today, Seunghyun turns twenty-nine.  
  
They haven't spoken in ten days.

 

_  
  
  
* _

  
  
  


Jiyong spends so many hours wondering what to say to Seunghyun, it's almost midnight when he finally calls. Hyeong-bae is in the shower, washing the dust from his hair when Jiyong finally builds the courage.  
  
He calls but there's no answer.  
  
Relief washes over him with such force he has to sit down. For a moment the burning pain in his stomach subsides. (He has felt it for days).  
  
_I tried. That's what matters._  
  
Instead, he sends a text.  
  
'Happy Birthday'.  
  
On this night, when Seunghyun dies in his dreams, he is still twenty-eight.

 

  
_  
  
* * *_

  
  
  


'You want us to go away together?'  
  
Jiyong holds the paper in his hands, a print-out confirmation of the guest house booking staring back at him. Hyeong-bae nods from where he sits on the end of their bed.  
  
'Just for three days. I have time off. I thought it would be nice'.  
  
'You should have asked me before you booked this,' Jiyong answers, folding the paper between his fingers. His stomach burns and he unconsciously holds his chest. He feels hot. Like his blood is boiling. The bracelet Hyeong-bae bought him makes a noise when he moves.   
  
'You don't want to go?'  
  
He sounds disappointed and Jiyong shrinks at the possibility of an argument. He doesn't feel well. He doesn't have it in him. All the same, going away together is complicated. There are considerations. They have to be careful.   
  
'It's not that. Where is this place? How much privacy is there?'  
  
'You don't think I vetted the place first? We've gone away together before. Is it only okay if you make the bookings and decide where and when we go?'  
  
'I didn't say that and that's not what I meant'.  
  
Hyeong-bae gestures absently.  
  
'Alright, well--- All the information is online. Let me know what you want to do. It's fine'.  
  
Jiyong looks back at the paper in his hand.  
  
Whether he wants to go or not, he knows in three days-time he will get in the car either way. He owes Hyeong-bae for his distance over the past few weeks and this is something he can do for him. If they sleep in a strange bed for two nights and breathe different air, maybe something will change.  
  
When Hyeong-bae leaves, Jiyong lays back down.  
  
He feels so physically ill, he thinks if he goes he might drop dead on the first night. They'll find his body in the morning with his bitten down fingernails and clumps of missing hair.   
  
Suddenly, he finds it hard to sleep on his side. His hips touch uncomfortably on the mattress. He has lost another pound.  
  
It has been one month exactly since Seunghyun told him everything.

 

 

_* * *_

  
  


On the night before they go away, Jiyong dreams of Seunghyun being dead. It isn't the first time, but it is the worst. This one _hurts_ him. Freddy Krueger like tendrils follow him from his nightmare into the waking world.  
  
He locks himself in the second bathroom and throws up from the waning adrenaline and nausea. When he can bring himself to get up, there are specks of blood on the seat.

 

 

_* * *_

 

 

They are already in Sokcho, at the guesthouse Hyeong-bae booked, in their two adjoining rooms, when Jiyong realises he has left his second phone at home. He forgot about it. Hyeong-bae micromanaged their morning. Being in charge of their trip had usurped his easy-going nature and supplanted it with something else.   
  
_'We have to go, we're going to be late'.  
  
'Relax! We can check in whenever we want'.  
  
'I've organised things alright? There are time constraints so put your shit in your bag and let’s go'.  
  
'Alright, give me five minutes. Just breathe'._  
  
Rushed from the moment he was woken by Hyeong-bae's arms pulling him out of bed, the second phone slipped his mind entirely.  
  
Sitting on the edge of their guesthouse bed, listening to Hyeong-bae move around in the second room, Jiyong wonders if Seunghyun sent his usual morning text. How many days has it been since the first one? Thirty-three? There's no reason to believe disaster will strike today of all days because he isn't there to see the words _Good Morning_ on a screen.  
  
All the same ----  
  
He tries to bite his fingernails but there is nothing left to bite.  
  
When Hyeong-bae walks back in, he is dressed like an old man at the beach and hands Jiyong a piece of paper with a long list of arbitrary activities.  
  
'What's this?'  
  
'Your itinerary'.  
  
'Tell me you're joking'.

 

 

 

_* * *_

 

  
  
On the thirty-fourth day, everything falls to pieces. Like most earth-shattering fights, it starts over nothing and once started, that's it. There is no end until it wears itself out. It comes unexpectedly and Jiyong doesn't defend himself.  
  
On his itinerary there is a massage. He doesn't feel like going with his stomach burning and his head spinning and that causes more problems than it's worth.   
  
_'I just don't feel like it, that's all. Don't be mad'.  
  
'I'm not mad, I just don't understand why you're fighting me on everything. If you didn't want to come on this trip, what are we doing here?'  
  
'I did want to come. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I just don't feel well, alright? Besides, none of these things you have planned are things we can do together so what's the point?'  
  
'The point is to relax and let people look after you. You're supposed to enjoy a massage. I thought you would like it'._  
  
_'I feel sick! What do you want me to say?'_  
  
It's almost unbelievable how asinine each line becomes. Jiyong realises soon enough they aren't fighting because of a massage. Hyeong-bae is venting his pent-up frustrations. He has finally realised that the space between them at home isn't _the learning curve_ , it isn't the two of them reworking their relationship now that they see each other less.  
  
While he's shouting about massages and itineraries, Jiyong can see that Hyeong-bae has figured it out.   
  
_That's right. It's me. Surprise!_  
  
Hyeong-bae arranged this trip thinking it would bring them closer together, that it might fix things somehow, that they might close the growing distance between them.

 

  


*  
  


  
Jiyong spends most of day thirty-four on his own. He sleeps and watches TV and rarely leaves the bed. He picks at a bowl of ordered fries and sucks on ice cubes to try and quell the pain in his stomach. It comes and goes.  
  
He thinks about Seunghyun being dead.   
  
In his mind, Seunghyun steps into traffic over and over like a glitch on a dvd, the same brief loop playing over and over. Now and then he goes on solo drives with his eyes closed. Mostly, in his mind, Seunghyun sinks into filled bathtubs in comfortable clothes and quietly disappears.   
  
When Jiyong thinks about Seunghyun, he feels hands around his throat squeezing the life out of him. He feels guilt and shame and fear.   
  
He _aches._

 

  
  
*

  


Hyeong-bae doesn't come back to their adjoining rooms until midnight. When he does, he smells of beer and cigarettes. He is unsteady on his feet. Jiyong is in the bathroom, dragging fingers through his hair when Hyeong-bae becomes a presence in the doorway behind him, too large and loud to ignore.  
  
Jiyong turns on the water and watches strands of hair gather in the plug. His hair is falling out. He wonders if it's the stress or the not eating or a combination of the two. He wonders if there's a bald patch at the back of his head he can't see.   
  
When he turns off the water his eyes settle on Hyeong-bae's reflection. He is obviously drunk, even without the noxious smell of booze and cigarettes to go by. His expressions are different, his shoulders are hunched. Hyeong-bae asks a question Jiyong doesn't have an answer for.  
  
'What's wrong with you?'  
  
'What do you mean?’  
  
Hyeong-bae drags his hands down his face, over the shadow of stubble that has grown since Jiyong last saw him. It reminds him of the night he stumbled home in the early hours of the morning, back from visiting his grandfather on his deathbed. He looked this way then, tired and hard to read. That was the night they fucked for the first time. Remembering that makes Jiyong feel hollowed out.  
  
He's never seen him this drunk.  
  
Hyeong-bae lets the bulk of his weight rest against the door frame and folds his arms across his chest. When he talks, his words slur. He seems to start in the middle of sentences.  
  
'Is it me? Is it _you_?'   
  
'What are you _talking_ about?'  
  
Hyeong-bae steps closer. His reflection in the mirror grows and his face contorts as if he's about to cry or shout. Jiyong can't tell which.  
  
'Why don't we talk anymore? Why don't we _fuck_ anymore? Huh? Because I fucked up?'  
  
His hand dashes forward and grips the back of Jiyong's neck, who tenses at the sudden contact. His shoulders rise at the touch.  
  
'Because of this?' Hyeong-bae asks, jostling him. 'We haven't fucked since _this_ ,' he does it again. 'You said it was fine but we don't fuck any more. We don't do anything. You don't talk to me, you don't look at me. You don't even notice when I'm home. We're on holiday and you've barely said a word to me. All you want to do is sleep. You said we were _fine_ '.  
  
He lets go and trips backwards before steadying himself.  
  
'We _are_ fine,' Jiyong answers, bristling.  
  
'Then why don't we _fuck?_ ' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Why don't you _talk_ to me anymore?'  
  
Jiyong's stomach aches and a clump of his hair stares up at him from the sink.  
  
'I don't know'.  
  
Hyeong-bae snorts his laughter and drags his hands down his face as if trying to sober up. They make eye contact in the mirror and Jiyong holds it. Hyeong-bae is right. Things have been strained between them. He hasn't tried hard enough to pretend he isn't seeing ghosts at every turn. They don't talk any more. They haven't fucked. They just move around each other.  
  
He doesn't know how to explain his behaviour or why there is always something coming between them, so with Hyeong-bae too drunk to think rationally, Jiyong tries to cover his tracks. He doesn't want to talk so he does the next easiest thing.   
  
'If you want to fuck,' Jiyong says, 'let's do it'.  
  
Without dropping Hyeong-bae's gaze, he pushes his pants halfway down his thighs and leans against the sink with his arms folded. Hyeong-bae laughs at the gesture but his eyes are drawn to bare skin. The agitated smile disappears and his gaze becomes something else, something leering and desperate. He's too drunk to make better choices.   
  
'Condom,' Jiyong says. 'And the rest'.  
  
Hyeong-bae leaves in a hurry, coming back with his pants off and his shirt still on, looking like a caricature, one hand fisting his cock, the other trying unsuccessfully to tear open the wrapper. Jiyong has to take it from him, eyeing the soft cock below the hem of Hyeong-bae's shirt.  
  
'You're too drunk,' Jiyong says. 'This isn't going to work'.  
  
Hyeong-bae answers him, _'yes it will'._  
  
By the wrist, he guides Jiyong's hand to his flaccid cock.   
  
'Just ---- _yeah, like that'._  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes to avoid staring into Hyeong-bae's shoulder while he jerks him off, trying to get him hard enough to fuck him and keep him upright at the same time, his body listing forward with each stroke. After what seems like half an hour, Hyeong-bae's breaths come heavier and he swells in Jiyong's hand, pushing roughly into his grip.  
  
_'Fuck. Turn around'._  
  
Jiyong lets himself be turned and there, bent over the bathroom counter, they fuck for the first time in a month. It doesn't last long, two minutes at most; hardly worth the effort of getting him hard in the first place. Hyeong-bae is clumsy, his hips and hands work against each other. He whispers words into Jiyong's hair that make him feel guilty and ashamed.  
  
_'I missed you'._  
  
Amidst the grunting and wet kisses pressed into the back of Jiyong's neck, Hyeong-bae fists a hand in his long hair and pulls so hard Jiyong winces. His arms shoot up to try and free himself. His head is forced back so far, his eyes find the ceiling.   
  
He doesn't find relief until Hyeong-bae cums a minute later, his body slacking at all once, his hand slipping from Jiyong's hair, yanking out a few strands as it goes.

  


*

 

When Jiyong goes to bed hours later, he falls asleep with ice in his mouth and a pillow beneath his hips. He can't remember the last time he was comfortable.

  
  


_* * *_

 

  
The next day, he meets Hyeong-bae at the car with a new haircut and their bags in the back seat. There are still things on the itinerary but it's time to go. They both know it. The wind blows through Jiyong's new do, shorter--- around his ears. To cover potential bald patches, he got a perm. With the illusion of volume he can pretend like everything up there is just fine.  
  
After Hyeong-bae's drunken hands got caught in his hair, Jiyong decided to shave it off. Once he got to the salon he worried his scalp might be a barren desolate wasteland and shied away from the questions. _Did you know you have little clumps missing back here?_  
  
When Hyeong-bae sees his hair, he pulls a face that isn't distaste but isn't not. Jiyong can see on his face that he barely remembers last night but knows he's done something wrong so he's holding his tongue.  
  
'You don't like it?' Jiyong asks, flicking a curl from his forehead.  
  
'It's different,' Hyeong-bae answers, voice gravelly, his eyes squinting. He hasn't shaved and his sunglasses aren't dark enough to hide the bags beneath his eyes. Jiyong makes sure to slam the car door as hard as humanly possible after Hyeong-bae gets in and smiles when a pained noise escapes him.  
  
'It makes you look younger,' Hyeong-bae says carefully, trying to explain.  
  
'Isn't that a good thing?'  
  
'Yeah. It looks good. I just--- I didn't expect it. It's good'.  
  
Jiyong pulls out of the carpark and onto the main road. He says _thanks,_ then turns on the radio as loud as he can stand.

 

 

_* * *_

  
  


Three days and another pound lighter, Jiyong finally sees a Doctor.  
  
His stomach hurts because he has an ulcer and he is pulling out his hair.  
  
'I think I would notice if I was pulling out my own hair'.  
  
_'You were doing it a few minutes ago, I watched you with my own two eyes'._  
  
'I was just combing my fingers through'.  
  
_'Call it whatever you want, there's nothing medically wrong with you. Your hair isn't falling out because you're physically sick. What you're doing could be stress related. It's quite common'._  
  
'So what am I supposed to do?'  
  
_'Figure out what's causing your stress and remove it. If you can't, we can look at medications to help. Antidepressants are sometimes effective but I recommend trying to curb the impulse without drugs. Now that you're aware of it, you can try and tackle the problem at its source. Therapy has shown--'_  
  
'I'll just stop doing it'.  
  
  


*

  
  


That night, Jiyong gets home five minutes before Hyeong-bae, who smells less like beer and cigarettes than usual but just as much of sweat and dust.  
  
After seeing the Doctor, Jiyong feels miserable and lonely. Even though things have been strained between them, when Jiyong raises the possibility of a shared shower, Hyeong-bae kisses him like they haven't seen each other in _months_ ; like everything is forgiven. It makes Jiyong feel more than usually sorry for pulling away from him. He has made things more difficult than they had to be.  
  
The night they got back from their weekend away, Hyeong-bae sat on the bed and said, ' _I'm sorry for getting drunk. I'm sorry for whatever I said and did--- I just miss you, that's all'._  
  
Jiyong had waved it off but now he understands because he feels it too. Suddenly, he _misses_ him. His misses the intimacy and the support. He misses sleeping on a chest that is warm and alive, with a heart that's still beating.  
  
So, Jiyong gets his wish and they shower together. Hyeong-bae crouches down and Jiyong washes his hair. While he scrubs out the dust, he asks a stupid question to pass the time.  
  
'Would you kill somebody to save my life?'  
  
'In what universe would I need to do that?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
'It's just a hypothetical question'.  
  
'It's a stupid question'.  
  
'Would you _do_ it though?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Why do I have to kill somebody?'  
  
'Because that's the deal'.  
  
_'Why?'_  
  
Jiyong scoffs.  
  
'What you're saying is you _wouldn't_ kill someone to save me'.  
  
'I don't know what I would do'.  
  
'You wouldn't kill anyone, obviously'.  
  
'That's not a _bad_ thing'.  
  
'It is for me. I'd be dead!'  
  
Hyeong-bae snorts.  
  
'What about you? Would you kill someone to save _me_?'  
  
'Not any more. If someone tries to axe murder you, you're on your own. Go fuck yourself'.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs and they change places. Jiyong lets strong hands knead through his hair. He closes his eyes when shampoo makes it to his fringe and lets Hyeong-bae tilt his head so the water can rinse it out. He has missed his touch.  
  
With Hyeong-bae's arms around him, he sleeps comfortably for the first time in weeks.

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Thirty-eights days after Seunghyun's confession, Jiyong runs into a friend on the street. After a few innocuous pleasantries the world offers him an opportunity. A chance to sleep better and to atone; to make better choices; to stop acting like an impotent child.  
  
Young-Gil has seen Seunghyun.  
  
_'He was at that new church in Chungdong. I saw him there last Thursday. I'm ninety-nine percent sure they have AA meetings there on Thursday nights, go figure. I never would have thought---'_  
  
Jiyong doesn't hear the rest.

 

 

 

  
**PART II**

 

 

Jiyong sits in his car outside the small church with his eyes on the door. Every now and then the overhanging light flickers in the dark and sends him cross-eyed. He isn't sure what compelled him but Thursday came along and here he is.  
  
There is no Bugatti in the parking lot, _small wonder_. There isn't a parking lot in Seoul where Jiyong would leave a 2 million dollar car unattended. All the same, he can't help his disappointment at not finding it. Is Seunghyun driving another car? Did he get a ride? Was he never here at all? Did Young-Gil make a mistake? Is this the wrong church?  
  
Jiyong waits, not knowing.   
  
His fingertips ache from anxiety and his stomach turns every five minutes from the stress of possibly _seeing_ him. He hasn't seen Seunghyun in weeks, too scared, too guilty, too inept. In every thought and daydream Jiyong has had, Seunghyun has been dead or dying. In none of them was he in Alcoholics Anonymous. In none of them was he doing okay. In none of them was Seunghyun going to be alright.  
  
Thinking about that, parts of Jiyong that had frozen in fear begin to chip and fall away.   
  
The noise of traffic flows in a steady rhythm and soon enough, stress or not, Jiyong's eyes and ears betray him. He has slept poorly for weeks. Watching the minutes tick over on the stereo clock, the dark and ambient noise lulls him to sleep.   
  
He wakes up twenty minutes later to the sound of a car door slamming.  
  
Disoriented, he looks around. By the small blue door, a few people are milling on the stairs but that's all. The car park is emptying out around him and like before, there is no sign of Seunghyun's car or Seunghyun. If he was ever here, he isn't now.  
  
Frustrated, Jiyong rests his head on the steering wheel. He had no intention of attracting Seunghyun's attention but he wanted to _see_ him. Like an overzealous stalker, he needed a glimpse into Seunghyun's life. He needed to see him with his own two eyes, walking and talking and doing okay.  
  
Jiyong watches the remaining lingerers part ways and descend the stairs, one by one. A few minutes later there is no-one left and the light above the doorway goes out. He fingers the key in the ignition but doesn't turn it. He waits. He needs time to decompress before he drives home.  
  
Then he sees him.  
  
On his periphery Jiyong sees red at the top of the stairs. A burgundy sweater catches his eye and though he can't see his face, Jiyong _knows_ it's Seunghyun. He bought that sweater for him years ago and though a thousand exist just like it, Jiyong knows it's him. Sure enough, Seunghyun comes down the stairs and the street lights illuminate his face long enough to be seen clearly.  
  
In the same instant, Jiyong's throat hurts for looking at him. It hurts the way it does before he bursts into tears or when he's trying to hold them back. Seunghyun looks okay. He isn't sitting in his apartment with a bottle of pills in his hand or a knife to his throat. He's here, in a red sweater in the parking lot of a church that holds AA meetings on Thursday nights. Seunghyun is in fucking AA. Seunghyun, who needed a bottle of wine to sleep at night, who on bad nights could drink two or three on his own. Seunghyun, who couldn't socialise or entertain without a glass to bolster him.  
  
While Seunghyun walks past the car with his head down, Jiyong wakes up to himself. He unfreezes. He climbs out from under the weight of Seunghyun's misery because _Seunghyun_ hasn't buckled. He may have in the past but he isn't buckling _now._ He's out in the world. His hair is brushed and his clothes are clean and he is talking to people about his drinking.  
  
He's _okay._  
  
Jiyong watches Seunghyun from the safety of his car and feels overwhelmed by embarrassment and shame. _What the fuck have I been doing for weeks? He's not dead. He's fucking fine. He's fucking right in front of me and he's fine. I could have been there. I could have helped him. Why didn't I? Because I was scared? Because I didn't want to get invested only for him to fucking die? Jesus Christ. Who the fuck am I?_  
  
He has spent weeks waiting for a catastrophe that might never happen.  
  
He has wasted time.  
  
He has fucked up.

 

 

*

 

 

Seunghyun doesn't look up when Jiyong drives past or when he brakes a few feet ahead. He keeps his eyes on the ground. He doesn't show any sign of seeing him at all until Jiyong winds down the passenger side window and yells when he's close enough.  
  
'Hyung!'  
  
Seunghyun looks across with wide eyes, as if surprised to find he isn't completely alone in the world. It takes another yell for him to step towards the car and look through the open window.  
  
'Jiyong?'  
  
'Do me a favour and get in'.  
  
Seunghyun looks around as if he's about to hand over some drugs and suspects undercover cops at every turn. He looks back to the church and at the parking lot where two cars sit spaces apart in the dark.  
  
'Is one of those yours?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'What happened to the Bugatti?'  
  
'I was just leasing'.  
  
'You're lying,' Jiyong answers. 'I don't get to drive the Bugatti?'  
  
Seunghyun smiles and Jiyong's stomach aches for seeing it.  
  
'You never asked'.  
  
'I thought you _bought_ it'.  
  
Seunghyun's face scrunches up like the mere suggestion is insane and Jiyong feels both embarrassed and vindicated for thinking otherwise. As much as a Bugatti was Seunghyun's soul-car, he always thought it was _crazy_ to throw away that kind of money.   
  
'What is this?' Seunghyun asks, tapping the window frame. 'Where's the Lamborghini?'  
  
'I sold it. Too conspicuous'.  
  
'My Mom drives this car'.  
  
'I'm incognito,' Jiyong answers. 'Get in the car. I want to talk to you'.  
  
'In the car?'  
  
'Yeah. It will be easier if I can't look at you and you're trapped. Indulge me. I'll bring you back later to pick up your car'.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates but when Jiyong leans across and opens the door, he reluctantly gets in.

 

  
  
*

  
  
Neither say a word until they've driven a few blocks in no particular direction. Jiyong has nowhere to go, no plans. He just drives, following the traffic.  
  
'How did you know where I was?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'Young-Gil saw you last week'.  
  
'Ah'.  
  
'Was that AA?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Seriously?'  
  
'I said yes'.  
  
They stop at a red light and Jiyong turns his head, finding Seunghyun's eyes. He's telling the truth. It's _real_. Jiyong suddenly feels like he's been punched in the stomach but it's alright, somehow. It's a good kind of pain.  
  
_'Wow'._  
  
There is silence until the light turns green.  
  
'That's--- '  
  
Jiyong's throat tightens and he can't get the words out. Suddenly, a lifetime of worrying about Seunghyun lifts. Every time he watched him pour another glass and said nothing, every time he found empty bottles by the bin and wondered when in the night Seunghyun found the time to drink them--- it all lifts.  
  
Jiyong clears his throat and tries to control his breathing, aware that Seunghyun is looking at him from the passenger seat. Jiyong feels like a parent watching their child in a talent show for the first time. He's proud. So much so, he doesn't have the words to thank Seunghyun or congratulate him for doing what he is. Him sitting in that church is a big deal and Jiyong can't find the words to explain how important that is or for how many years he has unconsciously prayed for it.  
  
'That's good,' he says quietly.  
  
A car swerves in front of them and Jiyong hits the brakes. The sudden flood of adrenaline winds him up. He doesn't know how to say anything he needs to say. This was a terrible idea. Of all the places to apologise for _abandoning_ somebody, why do it in a car? Where there's no escape?  
  
'Can I ask you a question?' Jiyong asks, eyes on the road.  
  
'Sure'.  
  
'Would you kill somebody to save my life?'  
  
'Is this why you made me get in the car?' Seunghyun asks. 'You want me to kill somebody?'  
  
'No, I just need to work up to the main conversation'.  
  
'Okay. Yes, I would kill someone to save your life'.  
  
'Don't you want to know the particulars?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Jiyong looks across at him for a quick second and feels something stir in his gut. How can he answer so easily?  
  
'Okay,' Jiyong says. 'If someone was trying to murder me, you would kill _them_ to save me. Correct?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'What if you had to kill an innocent person? What if I was dying and pressing a button could save my life but the consequence was an innocent person had to die. A life for a life. You hit the button and I live but some 9 year old boy in Cuba drops dead or something. What would you do then?'  
  
'Hit the button'.  
  
'You'd kill an innocent person to save my life?'  
  
'Yeah,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong shoots him another glance but Seunghyun is staring out the window now, completely un-phased by these questions. Jiyong can't help remembering the way Hyeong-bae answered the same ones.  
  
'Would you kill a _puppy_ to save my life?'  
  
'Now you're trying to make me feel bad'.  
  
'Oh my God,' Jiyong gapes, struggling to keep his eyes on the car in front. 'You would. You would kill a _puppy_. What an asshole'.  
  
'I'm saving your _life_!' Seunghyun protests.  
  
Jiyong laughs quietly.  
  
It takes only a few moments for a sinking feeling to form in his gut because fucking _fuck_. This is the Seunghyun he has known for fifteen years. The Seunghyun he trained with and played with and fell in love with. The Seunghyun who taught him to love himself and to have faith in hard times. The Seunghyun who made him a leader and supported him from the shadows. The Seunghyun who was always there for him. _Always-_ \-- and he abandoned him.  
  
'Fuck,' Jiyong whispers.   
  
'Are we about to have the _real_ conversation?' Seunghyun asks knowingly.  
  
Jiyong's eyes instinctively go to the rear-view. He wonders if the silver Hyundai behind him will run up his ass and put a stop to this train-wreck of a conversation before he has the chance to open his mouth. Part of him wishes he hadn't drawn Seunghyun's attention at the church. He doesn't know what he's going to say, he just knows how he feels and how unforgiveable the past month has been. For the rest of his life he will remember what he's done.  
  
'I'm _sorry'._  
  
'For what?'   
  
'I've been avoiding you,' Jiyong answers. 'I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you first needed me. I'm sorry I didn't go after you when you left for Japan. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you came back. I'm sorry that you told me what was going on and I used that to run away from you, because I did'.  
  
Months and weeks of guilt pour out of him. For the first time in what feels like years, Jiyong is completely and painfully honest. He says things he doesn't know are true until he's saying them. His unconscious mind forces everything out. All his painful, stupid weaknesses.  
  
'I should have been there for you when you told me what was going on. I wanted to be there but I was scared,' he says. 'I was scared and weak and I froze up. I was so afraid you would die, I left you on your own because I didn't want to get close to you. I didn't want to get involved if you were going to _die_ and I _believed_ that. I started _waiting_ for you to die. I started waiting for the text messages to stop. It barely crossed my mind that I should _be_ there, helping you. It was like you had cancer and there was nothing I could do for you but _fuck_ , you don't have cancer. I don't know what happened to me. I don't know why I thought any of that stupid shit'.  
  
Jiyong keeps his eyes on the road but they start to cloud over.   
  
'I never told anyone this but when I was a kid, I stayed with my grandparents for a few weeks. When I was gone, the family dog got sick. His name was Wonsoongi. He was a little brown Dachshund. The night I came back from my trip, I talked to him, you know? Because he was sick, I said, _'It's alright, don't feel bad, you'll get better soon. Mom will fix you'._  
  
He wipes a tear from his cheek, turning off the main road.  
  
'When I woke up the next day, he was dead. He died on the couch where I left him and I always thought that was my fault. Coming home had killed him. When I was gone, he was alive. When I was home he was dead. Being present had affected the status quo. It didn't matter that he was old and sick. _I_ killed him'.  
  
'That's insane'.  
  
'It doesn't matter, that's what I thought. Part of me still thinks that,' Jiyong says. 'Worse still, I lied to him. I looked him in the eyes and said he was going to be okay and he looked at me, I remember, like he understood. Like he knew what I was saying and he _trusted_ me, so he went to sleep thinking everything was going to be alright'.  
  
'Jesus, Jiyong'.  
  
'I think part of me started seeing _you_ that way. I remembered you saying on your worst days, I was all you had. I felt responsible for you. I thought that if I said or did the wrong thing, I might tip the scales. If I said the wrong thing you would die. Worse still, I might lie to you. I might look you in the eyes and tell you _everything will be alright_ only for things to turn to shit'.  
  
Seunghyun exhales loudly, a long-held breath.  
  
'I was scared,' Jiyong continues, 'I was scared and guilty. I don't know why but every time I thought about you, you were never not dead. Even when I was talking to you on the phone. Even when we were in the same room. It made me want to stay away from you. It was horrible. I was scared, of everything. I couldn't tell you why, I just--- I don't know. It was easier to stay away'.  
  
Jiyong wipes his eyes.  
  
'I'm sorry. I was scared and weak and I fucked up. There are things I should have said to you when you first told me what was going on. I should have told you that I loved you. I should have said how horrible and broken I would be if something happened to you. I should have told you things were going to be alright, even if they weren't. I've been so fucking bottled up  I haven't been able to do or say anything I should have. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I'm sorry. After everything we've been through, I should have done more'.  
  
'Pull over,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You can hardly _see_ , find somewhere to pull over'.  
  
Jiyong wipes his eyes on the back of his wrist and does a U-turn. They drive in silence for a few minutes until Jiyong finds an empty lot by the river. From here, they can see the bridge in the distance and the lights of the city across the water.  
  
Jiyong unbuckles his seat belt and wipes his eyes on his shirt.   
  
Seunghyun undoes his own seatbelt and rests his foot on the inside of the passenger side door. With an elbow on his knee, he turns so they're face to face and says things Jiyong could never in one thousand years have predicted.  
  
'You are not responsible for me,' Seunghyun says. 'Not at all. Not even a little bit. I didn't tell you anything I did so you would come back to me. I didn't tell you what was going on so you would take care of me. I just told you because I did. I never expected you to hold my hand or coddle me or fix my problems'.  
  
Seunghyun looks at him like that's obvious, like it makes all the sense in the world for him to say what he did and have that be the end of it. As if telling Jiyong what was going on would have no repercussions.   
  
'You have a life without me,' Seunghyun continues unemotionally, 'and I have a lot of problems I'm trying to deal with on my own. No part of me expected you and I to be closer after I told you the truth. I told you because it seemed like you were worse off _not_ knowing. I was trying to do the right thing. I never wanted you to feel guilty or responsible or like you had to _do_ something. I shouldn't have spoken to you. I should have stayed away. It would have been better for both of us'.  
  
'That's not true'.  
  
'Of course it is. Look at you,' Seunghyun answers. 'You're all skin and bones,' he says, pinching Jiyong's arm roughly. 'You have bags under your eyes an inch thick. You look like you haven't slept in ten years. You're saying that's not because of me? That's not because you feel responsible? Like you have to fix me? Because you don't'.  
  
'No,' Jiyong answers. 'I look like this because I didn't know how to help you. I've been stressed. I _care_ about you. It's called empathy'.  
  
'It's guilt,' Seunghyun answers. 'You feel guilty because you think me being miserable was a failing on your part. We were together when it started so it was _your_ fault. _You_ failed. You weren't capable of making me happy, that's what you think. You feel guilty because I told you the truth and you didn't come up with a solution. You feel guilty because I am still sick, because you knowing about it doesn't afford you the power to make it go away'.  
  
Jiyong's jaw clenches.  
  
'Guess what,' Seunghyun says, voice dropping lower. 'It's not your fault that I have problems. There was nothing you could have done to fix it and there is nothing you can do now. You aren't responsible for me because we were together. You have a life with somebody else now. It's okay for you to live that life and be happy. I'm not going to drop dead if you're not looking out for me so this?' he gestures towards Jiyong's overall appearance, 'has to stop. Whatever you're doing to look like this? Stop doing it. Live your life'.  
  
'Oh my God,' Jiyong whispers, trying to come up with an answer to Seunghyun's accusations.  
  
'This,' Seunghyun says, tapping his own forehead, 'isn't about you. Do you understand? _It's not about you._ Why do you do this? Something shitty happens to me and it's your fault? Whenever anything happens to you or the people around you, it's your fault. I hate that. If I had known you were going to walk away from that conversation thinking I was your dead dog from childhood, I would have kept my mouth shut'.  
  
'Shut up,' Jiyong answers, spinning around. 'Fucking _shut up'._  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I was trying to tell you how I _felt._ I was trying to _explain._ I need you to know I fucking care about you, that's all. Just let me apologise for Christ's sake'.  
  
'I don't want your apologies,' Seunghyun answers calmly. 'I don't want them. They're meaningless. I don't need your explanations. You're _sorry_ for not dropping everything to take care of me? You weren't _supposed_ to'.  
  
'I don't understand you,' Jiyong answers. 'Why are you so calm and collected? What is it? You don't feel anything? You can't be angry or disappointed? It doesn't matter that we were together for five years and I didn't help you? It doesn't matter that you told me those terrible things and I _ran away?_ You don't care about that? Didn't some part of you want me to be there? You were in trouble and I did nothing. It was easier for me to think you were already dead than it was to pick up the phone and talk to you. Doesn't that _hurt_ you?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Bullshit'.  
  
'What do you want me to say?' Seunghyun asks angrily. 'You want me to blame you? Hate you? You want me to throw you under the bus so I can feel better about myself?'  
  
'Yes!'  
  
'Fine,' Seunghyun shouts back, 'I _am_ angry. I _am_ disappointed'.  
  
'In what?'  
  
'In _you'._  
  
Jiyong's mouth drops in surprise and Seunghyun goes silent. His head drops suddenly like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Jiyong is grateful for the loss of eye contact because his heart breaks in half when Seunghyun goes on.  
  
'I never wanted you to look after me. I never expected you to _be_ there but _okay--_ maybe some part of me hoped I would see you every now and then. Maybe some part of me expected you to be my _friend_ when my grandmother was cremated, instead of you sitting there in silence like you didn't want to be there. Is that what you want to hear? That day you disappointed me. You _hurt_ me'.  
  
Jiyong's lip quivers and he stares at the centre console.  
  
'There have been moments when I've _hated_ you,' Seunghyun says quietly. 'When I have blamed you for not _seeing_ me. When I first got sick, you didn't see it. Sometimes I wondered how I could know you so well and you know _me_ so little. How could you not see it?'  
  
A tear rolls down Jiyong's cheek.  
  
'But they're only moments,' Seunghyun says. 'If I ever think that way, it's only for a minute. It _passes_. The rest of the time I know it's not your fault. I can't blame you or hate you for not reading my fucking mind. I can't hate you for not taking on responsibilities that weren't yours to begin with. If our roles were reversed nothing would change'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
'You have no reason to feel guilty. I'm not absolving you of anything. You haven't done anything wrong. You were always there for me when I needed you. You have no obligation to be here for me now'.  
  
'Seunghyun---'  
  
'I don't want to see you anymore'.  
  
What he says comes out of nowhere. He says it so suddenly, it takes Jiyong time to process his words. Somehow these eight words spoken together hurt more than what came before them.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'I hate this,' Seunghyun says, strained, gesturing between them. 'I hate being near you. I hate that every time we're together, this happens. We fight. Every time. I hate it'.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard and Seunghyun continues.  
  
'I am going to these AA meetings and I have a therapist and I am _trying_ to be better, okay? I am trying to remember who I was before I became _this_ ,' he tugs on the front of his sweater. 'But every time I see you, I go right back to the beginning. I see you and I want to _drink_. I want to go to sleep for ten years. I see you and _everything_ turns to shit'.  
  
Jiyong gapes wordlessly, trying to find the words to answer but Seunghyun interprets his silent awe correctly. He reads his lips and sees the _why_.  
  
'Because,' Seunghyun says quietly. 'When I see you, I see who I was five years ago, three years ago, two years ago. When I see you, I see the person I used to be and I want that back. More than anything on this earth I want to go back, but I can't. We can't be the people we used to be. I can't have that life back'.  
  
'We're still the same people,' Jiyong lies, wiping his face. 'Our circumstances are different, that's all'.  
  
'It doesn't matter. Whenever I see you we fight and then you leave. You go back to the apartment you share with someone else and whatever progress I've made turns to shit because I get stuck in the past. I see what I've lost and I backslide'.  
  
'So what? We just don't see each other anymore? That's your solution? Indefinitely? What about work?'  
  
Seunghyun rests his head against the seat.  
  
'We both know _Big Bang_ is over. At worst we'll have to see each other every now and then for official business'.  
  
'And you're okay with that? After fifteen years you're okay with not seeing me anymore?'  
  
'I'll find a way to manage'.  
  
Jiyong turns away, hurt.  
  
He looks out the window and sees his reflection, face streaked with old tears. Through that, he can see the city across the river. He tries to comprehend a world without Seunghyun in it. He tries to remember who he was before he met him, who he was before Seunghyun became the person he ran to whenever he had something to say.  
  
Youngbae and Daesung will be discharged soon so he'll get his best friend back. That's something. He'll go to Youngbae for advice but it won't be the same. Youngbae doesn't think the way Seunghyun thinks, he doesn't have the same answers and reactions. They don't have the same history that makes turning to Seunghyun such an easy choice. Youngbae is his best friend but Seunghyun is more than that. It won't be the same.  
  
Jiyong winces. Their own enlistments are coming up soon enough. They have a year at most and then it's all over. Either way, he and Seunghyun will be separated. What sort of people will they be after that? Maybe this is where their friendship was always going to end. Maybe Seunghyun is right to end it now. They'll go to the army and come out different. Maybe it will change them. Maybe Jiyong will come out wanting the family he sought when he was a kid. Maybe he'll grow tired of hiding and want a wife and kids he can actually talk about.  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Jiyong thinks about the few months since Seunghyun's return and how, through all of the bullshit, no matter what, he always ended up back on his doorstep. No matter how many tears he shed, he kept going back and Seunghyun kept opening the door. That means something, doesn't it?  
  
Jiyong knows what it means. He's known it since the moment he saw Seunghyun in the studio, sitting on that couch with his coffee on the floor. He's known since they shared two words about cigarettes and Jiyong felt the floor open up beneath him.  
  
Maybe they _will_ be different people after the army. Maybe he won't want the same things when he's discharged, but for now--- he can't do this without Seunghyun. He can't have a life without him in it. For all those months Seunghyun was gone, for every precious and perfect moment with Hyeong-bae, Seunghyun was there in the back of his head. His absence shaped his life as much as his presence. There hasn't been one moment since they first met that Jiyong's choices haven't revolved around him in some way.  
  
He can't throw that away.  
  
'No,' Jiyong says.  
  
'What?'  
  
'No. I'm not going to avoid you for the rest of my life. Newsflash, asshole, I love you. Maybe you can manage without me but I don't want to throw away fifteen years. I can't do that. We'll figure something out. We'll be okay. Things will get better'.  
  
'No they won't'.  
  
'How do you fucking know if we haven't tried?'  
  
Seunghyun sighs and Jiyong wants to kick and hit and bite him like a child for wanting to throw away fifteen years of shared history; for being able to suggest it so easily. If they love each other, isn't spending time with each other the better choice? Even if it hurts? Even if causes problems? After the month he's had, Jiyong believes that completely. Jiyong opens his door and gets out, climbing into the back seat. Seunghyun looks back at his sudden change of location in awe.  
  
'Get in the back with me,' Jiyong says.  
  
_'Why?'_  
  
Jiyong waves his arms around before folding them tightly over his chest.  
  
'So I can punch you more easily. _Get in the back'._  
  
Seunghyun looks at him warily but rolls his eyes and follows soon enough. The passenger side door opens in the back and he slides in, shutting the door behind him. He stares at his knees resignedly, as if waiting for Jiyong's balled up fists to come raining down.  
  
Jiyong pulls a knee onto the seat so he can sit sideways, so they can see each other face to face if Seunghyun will only turn around because he has things to say. He has things that Seunghyun needs to hear. When he woke up this-morning, he didn't anticipate being here. He couldn't have imagined sitting two feet from Seunghyun in the back seat of his car, smelling his cologne but it happened. He saw him. He snapped out of his bullshit and here they are. Shit happens.  
  
This-morning, when he thought of Seunghyun he saw him on his knees four weeks ago, apologising for being miserable. He saw the man who said he sometimes regretted being alive. He saw Seunghyun's fingers delivering an envelope with a suicide note inside. He saw Seunghyun dead and buried. In his mind, Seunghyun was already gone.  
  
Now, he knows better.   
  
Jiyong waits until Seunghyun finally looks his way to say his piece. He isn't sure what he's going to _say_ but he knows the gist of it. He knows how he _feels_ and that Seunghyun needs to know too. They are better off together than they are apart. Jiyong knew that a long time ago but somewhere amidst all the bullshit he forgot. Now, he remembers.  
  
When Seunghyun turns to him, Jiyong speaks honestly. He has no choice.  
  
'I have loved you for half of my life,' he says clearly. 'I was just a kid when I first met you but even then, I loved you. There was something about you that lit up my world. You were everything to me. You were my friend and my brother and who I wanted to be five years down the line. Even when we fought or hated each other, I still wanted to impress you. I wanted your eyes to be on me all the time. Years later when I fell for you, it felt natural. No matter which road I took in life, I would always end up on your doorstep. It felt like that'.  
  
Seunghyun looks away and his face contorts. He is trying not to cry and that makes Jiyong cry on his behalf.  
  
'I wish I could explain,' Jiyong whispers, 'how much I loved you. I wish I could find the words for how unimportant my life felt when you weren't there. I don't know how to explain that but you made the highs bigger and brighter for me. When you weren't around, nothing seemed as bright or as interesting or as deserved. _Nothing_ has changed'.  
  
Jiyong leans against the back-seat.  
  
'Yes, I'm dating somebody and I love them,' he says. 'But I love you too. I love you for fifteen years worth of reasons. I love you for loving _me_ , I love you for coming back, I love you because I do. I love you for reasons I don't even understand, reasons I can't put into words. I love you because I have for too long to stop now'.  
  
Jiyong wipes tears from his cheek and feels a pang of heartbreak at seeing Seunghyun cry, even though he's trying to suppress it. He sees his tears. There's no hiding them.  
  
'I have made so many mistakes over the last few years,' Jiyong says. 'I'm so fucking sorry. I would give anything to take them back. I chose not to see things and I stuck my head in the sand. I tried to pretend that our lives were perfect because I loved you too much. I thought if I acknowledged the cracks, they would come between us and I would lose my perfect life'.  
  
Seunghyun wipes his cheek, his gaze firmly on his knees.  
  
'I made _mistakes_ ,' Jiyong says. 'Right up until this moment, I made mistakes. I let fear take over my life but I won't do that anymore. I see you. Please believe that. I _see_ you. I'm here. If you really want me to stay away from you, I'll try my hardest to do that but give us a _chance_. Give us a chance to be friends again, to spend time together without the world ending. Tell me you want that. I don't want to live my life without seeing you and talking to you. I wouldn't know where to begin,' Jiyong says. 'Let me try. Let us watch movies and eat together and do boring things. I _need_ you in my life. Don't you need me too? We can figure something out. We'll make new memories so we stop living in the old ones. We can _do_ that. We _can,'_ he says. 'Tell me I can fix this’  
  
Then, the dam breaks. Seunghyun bursts into tears and covers his face with his hand, trying to hide it, trying to lessen the damage. Between hitches in his breath, he nods. He chokes out a faint, ' _Fine. Alright’._  
  
Jiyong smiles and closes the space between them. He plants a hand on the far side of Seunghyun's face and kisses his cheek, wiping his tears away with his thumb. Seunghyun turns his head, moving into him unconsciously.  
  
'I don't know how to just be your friend,' he whispers.   
  
Jiyong laughs a short-clipped laugh and answers painfully, with his nose pressed into Seunghyun's cheek.  
  
'Me either'.

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

**  
  
** In the days and weeks following that conversation in the car, things come together. For the first time since Seunghyun's return from Japan, Jiyong sleeps at night without visions of the past or future plaguing his dreams. He doesn't feel ill or get headaches or any of the other myriad signs of unabating stress he had since learned to ignore. He feels fine, healing stomach ulcer notwithstanding.  
  
On the home-front, things with Hyeong-bae soon feel ordinary. There is no pane of glass between them any longer, no unspoken problems causing invisible rifts. Jiyong excuses his distance and weight loss on the ulcer, _'I didn't realise I had it or that it was making me such an asshole. I'm sorry'._ He pops his pills and eats bland food and Hyeong-bae slips right back into domestic normalcy.  
  
Things heal.  
  
Jiyong gains weight back and stops pulling out his hair while Hyeong-bae finds endless work. Though they only spend two or three hours a day together, it feels like enough. They eat together or watch TV or talk or fuck or all of the above and Jiyong finds balance again. It should be harder but it's not.  
  
With Hyeong-bae working all the time, Jiyong is free to focus his time and energy on other things, so he works at fulfilling the promises he made to Seunghyun in the car. _We'll make new memories,_ he said, _we can do that._ He tries.  
  
Together they work out an imperfect system. Sometimes Seunghyun wants company, sometimes he doesn't. They aim to see each other a few times a week if the circumstances are right, sometimes they aren't. Sometimes Seunghyun pulls out at the last minute, sometimes he doesn't. Their imperfect system is a prolonged roll of the dice, suggestions made and rebuffed, plans cemented and broken up.  
  
It's flawed but it works and they find themselves together pretty often.

 

 

 

**PART 2**

  


  1.   
**' _Family'_**  
  
*



The first time Jiyong knocks on Seunghyun's door, he is surprised to find him not alone. Wearing dishevelled and stained clothes, Seunghyun opens the door with a tiny person in his arms. A small boy resting on his hip the way mothers hold their kids while multitasking. It's unexpected and stranger than when he opened the door months earlier and a _dog_ ran out.  
  
'How long has it been since I saw you?' Jiyong jokes. 'You have a family now?'  
  
'My sisters,' Seunghyun answers tiredly. He starts to say something else but the boy chimes in with his name in a voice so high and loud it almost defies belief. Jiyong smiles at the kid, unexpectedly entertained.  
  
'Yeah,' Seunghyun continues. 'Say hi to Yeon Jun'.  
  
The boy ignores Jiyong almost immediately and the arm behind Seunghyun's back emerges with a toy that clocks Seunghyun hard in the side of the head. Jiyong flinches but Seunghyun has the poise of someone who is dead inside, so tired and battered that plastic wheels to the face don't phase him anymore.  
  
'Is your sister here?'  
  
'No. I'm just watching him for a couple of hours'.  
  
'I thought your sister hated you?' Jiyong asks quietly. He doesn't know how much kids actually understand at this age.   
  
'She does,' Seunghyun answers. 'Whatever. Please come in. I've run out of ways to entertain him. I'm not good with kids, even cute ones. It's been hours. When you rang the bell I was on the floor letting him drive toy cars over my face'.  
  
'It's your lucky day, I guess. I'm very charismatic. Kids love me'.  


 

  
*  
  


  
  
When he gets over the initial surprise, Jiyong is glad the kid is there. He confesses to Seunghyun he _kind of almost maybe forgot he even had a nephew, is that weird?_ But they find ways to entertain him together--- meaning Seunghyun takes a well needed break and Jiyong pulls out all the stops. He plays with toy cars, he pulls out his tickling fingers, he answers every probing childish question in a way that Yeon Jun seems to understand and agree with.  
  
Seunghyun watches from the lounge in a daze, shaking his head every time some passionate torrent of nonsense from his nephew is answered in a way that satisfies him. For all Seunghyun's tiredness, Jiyong can see the remnants of a full day of entertainment. Before Jiyong makes his own mess there are toys scattered across the apartment, drawings on loose paper, a haphazard fort made from the table, chairs and a sheet.  
  
When Yeon Jun gets bored he toddles over to Seunghyun and smacks him on the knee, which is obviously a tried-and-true method of being cuddled like a baby because that's what Seunghyun does. He lifts the kid onto his lap and holds him around the waist. Yeon Jun plays with a band around Seunghyun's wrist.  
  
Even tired and family strains notwithstanding, Jiyong can see the love Seunghyun has for his nephew. It makes him feel a pang of regret and disappointment that when they were still together, Yeon Jun would have been too young to babysit. He can't help thinking about the days they could have spent looking after him together. Super-uncles, enriching young minds and all that.  
  
It's kind of strange and otherworldly to see Seunghyun so relaxed and ordinary. For the first time in a long time, there is no undercurrent of stress or hurt between them. Their arsenals are empty. It should be easy to spend time together but it's hard from the get-go. It's hard to forget what needs forgetting.  
  
They can't be friends the way they used to be. Even pre-relationship, there was something between them, naïve, not yet understood. Their friendship pre-relationship was just the prelude to. It was a long time coming. Now, at the tail end of their twenties, it's hard to remember what _just-friends_ do? It's hard to know how to talk to each other and be around each other without every word and action leading towards something more.   
  
It's hard to get his thoughts and feelings in line with a surprise child wreaking havoc that looks just like Seunghyun. Jiyong finds his mind straying to unwelcome and disallowed places. Seunghyun acting paternal and laid-back with a juice stain down the front of his shirt makes Jiyong feel things he was wholly unprepared for when he knocked on the door. Thoughts and feelings he hasn't had in years.  
  
In desperation, he is conjuring up new ways to entertain the kid and distract himself when Yeon Jun says _lizard_ twenty times and Seunghyun begrudgingly gets up like an old man with bum knees.  
  
_Lizard?_

 

 

*

  
  
  
Two hours later something lands on Jiyong's back but he ignores it. For fifteen minutes he has been a target for stray pencils, scissors, ribbons and plastic cars. Like Seunghyun, his energy petered out around the one-hour mark until he found himself motionless on the floor, a willing victim of Yeon Jun's varied attacks.  
  
It isn't until Jiyong feels movement and hears a hushed whisper above followed by the unnerving laugh of a three year old boy that he realises something is _on him._ If he had any doubts, Seunghyun's wide-eyed expression destroys him. Seunghyun, sitting lax on the couch in front of him, stares suddenly at his back. His eyes say it all. He is in the Colosseum watching a lion advance on a slave.   
  
'What is _on_ me?' Jiyong asks carefully.  
  
Seunghyun meets his gaze and grimaces, shrugging like it's not a big deal, _this happens to everyone._  
  
'The lizard'.  
  
Jiyong freezes. Lock him in a room with a rabid lion or a shark evolved to breathe on land, that's fine. Small, fast moving creatures? They are the limit. The _limit_. Who even has a pet lizard?  
  
'Get it off me,' Jiyong says quietly, frozen in place.   
  
Seunghyun shrugs as if to ask, _'How!?_ '  
  
Jiyong is poised to tear him a new one when the lizard moves south. He can feel it suddenly on bare skin where his shirt has ridden up. His eyes widen at the same time as Seunghyun's and a desperate sound escapes him. His life flashes before his eyes.   
  
Something flashes and Jiyong grimaces.  
  
'Who is taking a photo instead of _helping_ me?'  
  
'My charming nephew'.  
  
'Oh, he can use a smart-phone? That's great. Kids are so advanced nowadays. I'm so proud of your super fantastic genius family, _Seunghyun._ Both of you keep doing what you're doing. I'm fine'.  
  
'He was never going to help you. He dropped the lizard on you. Plus he took a picture of the floor, he's not even looking at you'.  
  
There is movement against his skin and Jiyong's eyes clench shut.  
  
_'Fuck'._  
  
'Language!'  
  
Jiyong hears the swift intake of air that comes with a child's shock and awe. Moments later there is an equally delighted, _'That's a bad word. He said fu--'_  
  
'No!' Seunghyun shouts. 'We're not allowed to say that'.  
  
'That's right,' Jiyong quickly concedes. 'Yeon Jun. Swearing is bad. I shouldn't have said that but get your lizard off me, okay? He wants to play with you. He _misses_ you'.  
  
Jiyong gives a lengthy spiel using every sensible reason he can think of, aimed at tricking a child into undoing the damage they have wrought by dropping a lizard on an unsuspecting house guest. It doesn't do any good. The moment he's finished, he hears the sound of tiny feet running away. Seunghyun's thinly veiled smile tells him Yeon Jun has fled.  
  
'Oh my god, I'm going to die here,' Jiyong whispers. ‘Your nephew is such a dickhead'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs.  
  
'Yeah, thanks. He's going to go home and say that word all day long. Now my sister won't speak to me again, _guaranteed'._  
  
'Yeah, and I'm sorry about that,' Jiyong exhales, 'but i'm hardly responsible for my own actions, there's a fucking liz—-'  
  
Tiny feet move across his bare skin and Jiyong shrieks at a high pitch he didn't know he could reach. He didn't realise he had such range. Seunghyun starts openly laughing and Jiyong's face reddens.  
  
'I am going to hurt you,' he says calmly.  
  
'Be careful not to move,' Seunghyun answers. 'It's facing north. If you startle it, it will run under your shirt'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes shoot open.  
  
'Oh my god, get it off me. Seunghyun, get it _off_ me. If this thing crawls up my shirt, I am going to _murder_ you. I am going to leave you here to rot. I will cut off your head and shrink it down and kick it around like a little football---'  
  
'That's colourful,' Seunghyun answers. He finally drops off the lounge onto his knees.  
  
'Oh fuck, thank-you. Help me,' Jiyong says, relieved by Seunghyun's sudden proximity. Seunghyun laughs quietly and shuffles closer.  
  
'I don't want to touch this lizard,' he says. 'It's gross. I can say that. I'm a grown man but this tiny lizard is disgusting. I don't want to touch it'.  
  
'If you care about me at all, you will touch the lizard'.  
  
Seunghyun grimaces but bridges the distance between them.  
  
'Fine,' he says stirringly. 'I'll try and grab it but if it goes up your shirt, it's not my fault'.  
  
Jiyong accepts the terms, despite having zero faith in Seunghyun's ability to pull this off. If he thinks the worst, he can only be pleasantly surprised. It's a motto not often used but it's appropriate in this situation so Jiyong closes his eyes, pessimistic.  
  
His pessimism is well founded.  
  
Seunghyun tries to grab the lizard but misses. It runs. Jiyong feels something dash across his skin and he screams. He flings himself into Seunghyun's body trying to get away and lands on top of him for a moment before jumping to his feet, hopping around like he's on fire. _'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck'._ He tears his shirt off and shakes his hair, jumping onto the lounge for good measure.  
  
Seunghyun sits dazed on the floor where Jiyong squashed him but manages a brief outburst of consolation.  
  
'It ran into the other room. It's not _on_ you!'

  
  


*

  
  


Seunghyun's sister collects Yeon Jun and the lizard at six and Jiyong leaves not long after. At the door, their goodbye is strained. Without a child to use as a buffer, they are really alone for the first time since their conversation in the car.  
  
Seunghyun is dishevelled more than ever, his hair a mess, the stain down his shirt even darker. If he's completely honest with himself, Jiyong thinks Seunghyun looks cute. In another life, he would flatten his hair or prod him in the stomach, cooing about what a good job he did 'uncle-ing'.  
  
In this life, he holds his palm up in awkward goodbye.  
  
'This never happened,' he says, as jovial as possible. 'This is a story we do not tell other human beings, okay? I came over, we had a chat. Very civil. At no point did I scream or throw my shirt off or swear in front of a child'.  
  
'Got it,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
When Jiyong hits the bottom of the stairs, it takes more restraint than it should not to look back.

 

 

 

 

  1. **_'TV'._**



 

*  
  
'This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me,' Jiyong gripes.  
  
The credits roll.  
  
Bit by bit he detaches himself from the world of the drama he and Seunghyun have spent three days watching, sometimes together, sometimes not. In a surprise twist, the impromptu marathon has relieved some of the awkwardness between them. When Jiyong knocked on the door this time, Seunghyun was completely at ease, eager to throw himself on the couch for six hours and not move an inch.  
  
If the basis of their future relationship is watching TV together, everything will turn out fine. For now it's easier to joke around and keep things light than delve too deep beneath the surface. Trying this friendship-only thing for the first time, they are still trapped within the confines of superficial conversation.  
  
'I haven't watched too many dramas in my life but they have happy endings, right? That's the draw,' Jiyong complains. 'The leads find common ground and despite all the reasons they shouldn't work together, they do'.  
  
'Sometimes'.  
  
'You're saying this happens sometimes? You commit so many hours of your life and the guy and girl call it quits in the last ten minutes? This is the last episode, right? This is it? Finis?'  
  
'Sorry'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs dramatically, his legs splayed over the back of the armchair, head upside down on the cushion. He ignores the throbbing in his skull from all the blood rushing to his head. The physical pain distracts him from the emotional torment this finale has wrought upon him. From his contorted position, the credits look as if they're rolling in reverse. God has realised his mistake and is turning back the clock so Han-nul can find the love she deserves and Seung-Won won't be trapped in his loveless home with his absentee father.   
  
'Use your superstar clout to get the show renewed. You can pay the writers to push a happy ending'.  
  
Jiyong cranes his neck to where Seunghyun is sprawled on the opposite lounge looking disappointed but not so much betrayed.  
  
'Do you think I could?'  
  
In answer, Seunghyun grabs a handful of pretzels from a bowl on the coffee table and throws them one-by-one into Jiyong's upside-down face. It's a strange moment of comfort and familiarity.  
  
'I really don't,' he says.  
  
While Jiyong wipes the salt off his face he thinks, _'We can do this. This is easy. Friendship is a piece of cake'._

 

 

**III. _'The bracelet'._**

_*_

  
The complexity of their situation means things don't always go as smoothly as TV marathons and lizard rodeos. Sometimes every word hits a sensitive place and what should be an innocuous conversation between them becomes a dangerous game.   
  
This is one of those days. From the moment they meet, there is tension. Every subtle attempt to dampen it only stirs the flames, kicking embers up between them. It feels unfair that their first serious interaction should be a fight.  
  
Jiyong loses his bracelet in Seunghyun's apartment.  
  
Once he realises it's gone, the only important thing is to find it. He searches every possible place twice over before Seunghyun becomes his shadow, tailing him in and out of every room. Wherever he goes, Seunghyun watches him in grim silence.  
  
In the kitchen for the third time, Jiyong runs his hand over the counter and behind jars. He searches every conceivable place he may have been with it because Hyeong-bae _bought_ this bracelet for him. It was the first real gift he gave him and Jiyong has been wearing it ever since. He can't go home without it. Hyeong-bae will notice its absence on his wrist and to leave it _here_ of all places is unimaginable.   
  
He isn't doing anything _wrong_ here. He and Seunghyun are friends. They watch TV and sometimes eat and that's all. Still, things are complicated. There is history.  
  
On the floor by the lounge, Jiyong throws cushions against the wall to get them out of the way _._ Panic wells up in him. A seed of guilt forms and grows heavier by the second.

  
  
  
*

  
  
'I found it'.  
  
Seunghyun stands at the edge of the room with an outstretched finger, the familiar gold hanging from his index. Jiyong knocks his shin on the coffee table in his haste to get it back.  
  
'Where did you get it?' Seunghyun asks, innocently enough.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, hooking it over his wrist.  
  
'Why? Want one?'  
  
'Not really. It looks cheap. Was it a gift?'  
  
Seunghyun says _cheap_ in a way that makes Jiyong pause. His tone is neutral but Jiyong hears it for what it is. Every word between them today has been a battle; every new sentence like stepping on a landmine.  
  
'It was,' Jiyong answers. 'He bought it for me. I like it'.  
  
'I guess it's the thought that counts'.  
  
Jiyong smiles mutedly and pulls his sleeve back down, shaking his wrist a few times to make sure the bracelet won't come loose. Seunghyun isn't this shallow or rude but from the moment he let slip the missing bracelet was _sentimental_ , Seunghyun put the pieces together and adjusted his attitude accordingly. Never mind that they've talked about the boyfriend before. Today is different. Today, Seunghyun is having a bad day.  
  
'He had no money,' Jiyong answers calmly. 'He bought this for me when he finally had some. It was a nice gesture'.  
  
Seunghyun ignores the bulk of that information and goes straight to the part most vulnerable. The part he can criticise. Jiyong notices that Seunghyun looks sensitive and weak, even on the attack.  
  
'He had no money? Did you help him out?'  
  
'I gave him an allowance'.  
  
'For how long?'  
  
Jiyong's calm exterior falters only for a second but Seunghyun catches it. He pokes and prods. He says something unexpected.  
  
'What if you _had_ no money?'  
  
He doesn't say anything more. He doesn't need to. He skips the lighter jabs and aims for Jiyong's most assailable weakness. Though he only says a few words, it's hard for Jiyong to keep a straight face.  
  
'Don't,' Jiyong answers. 'You're better than this'.  
  
'You're not?'  
  
In an instant, Jiyong's patience dissolves. It doesn't matter that Seunghyun is having a bad day, that having to witness his search for a sentimental gift from the other man may have hurt his feelings. Maybe he's lonely. Maybe Seunghyun is thinking how unfair it is to have this other life dangled before his eyes. Maybe none of the above.  
  
It doesn't matter.  
  
'Fuck you. I can't believe you just said that,' Jiyong spits, words tumbling out in a breathless rush. 'So what if I gave him money? That's it, for you? He and I have been together all this time because he wanted my money? If that’s true, why does he work so often? For his paltry pay-check and a bad back? I wonder if he does that and sticks around because he _likes_ me. Don't worry, I know what you _meant_ to say. You're the only person capable of loving me, obviously. God _help_ me'.   
  
'That's _not_ \---'  
  
Jiyong raises a hand to cut him off.

‘I'm going home. Today has been a nightmare'.

  
_  
  
*_  
  
  


  
For the hours until Hyeong-bae comes home, Jiyong sits on the couch and simmers. He flip-flops from indignation and pity for Seunghyun lashing-out, to feeling all of eighteen again, asking girls between kisses what they wanted to do for a living, inevitably tensing when the majority answered, _I want to sing_ [or] _act._  
  
He doesn't give credence to Seunghyun's suggestion. He knows Hyeong-bae loves him, the way he knows Seunghyun didn't mean what he said. All the same, when Hyeong-bae comes home from work, Jiyong feels a pang of need. He seeks reassurance. When the front door opens, his hands move behind Hyeong-bae's neck, his lips trail kisses down his open collar.  
  
When they don't make it further than a few steps into the apartment, they settle in the kitchen. With his pants around his ankles and his back against the sink, Jiyong whispers into Hyeong-bae's heated skin, _'tell me you love me'._  
  
When Hyeong-bae says it once, twice, twenty times in quick succession, Jiyong thinks of Seunghyun and feels something stir in his gut. He tells himself it's vindication. It's a simple _fuck you._  
  


 

  1. **_'Unfinished business'._**



_*_

 

A few days after the lost bracelet and Seunghyun's inevitable and _sincere_ apology, Jiyong knocks on his door and Seunghyun answers. When he does, he is dressed to the nines.  
  
'Going somewhere?'  
  
For a minute, Seunghyun looks awkward as if wondering whether to answer truthfully. He seems flustered, like he should have his shoes on the wrong feet and his shirt on backwards. Jiyong wonders if he caught him on his way to a hot date.  
  
'The cemetery,' Seunghyun says, subdued. 'I haven't been'.  
  
'Big day,' Jiyong answers gently.  
  
It doesn't surprise him to know Seunghyun hasn't been. In the accumulative hours they have spent together since they decided to _hang out_ sometimes, Seunghyun hasn't mentioned his grandmother once. There used to be photographs of her in the apartment but since her death Jiyong hasn't seen one. Seunghyun has carefully reconstructed his world to exclude her.  
  
'Do you want some company?'   
  
He doesn't expect Seunghyun to say yes but he does. He actually looks relieved, like he's been awarded a stay of execution.  
  
'That would be nice'.

 

 

*

  
  
  
The actual visit isn't what Jiyong expects when it's all said and done. When they arrive, he helps Seunghyun find his grandmother and leaves him to it. He moves through two sets of doors and wanders until he finds himself in an enclosed garden with a low bench in the centre. He sits and counts his blessings that no-one in his immediate family or otherwise is keeping company here.  
  
He barely has a chance to think, morbid thoughts or otherwise, before he is interrupted by Seunghyun's return. That familiar heavy coat brushes against him, Seunghyun's long legs sinking down onto the bench beside him. The moment he sits down, Seunghyun's knee starts bouncing.  
  
'You're done already?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Are you _okay?'_  
  
It's a stupid question but it’s what people ask so Jiyong asks it.  
  
Seunghyun answers in a heavy voice, 'I guess'.  
  
Nothing more.  
  
For a while they sit together in silence. There is a water feature behind them, a small bed of water filled with stones. The fountain at the head is broken. Jiyong laments. A trickle of water would be a welcome distraction. In the centre of the complex they are shielded from the outside, no faint traffic breaking up the quiet, no mourners talking amongst themselves. The silence makes Jiyong uncomfortable for a dozen reasons. Mostly, it makes him feel like a bad person for not filling it.  
  
For the first time in what feels like decades, he doesn't understand his place. Even young and naïve at eighteen, nineteen, twenty, he and Seunghyun had _something_ going on; an unspoken understanding that their friendship was different, even if they were too young to understand it.  
  
Even then, before the allusion of attraction or deep feelings was made, Jiyong was able to speak his mind. He was able to touch Seunghyun in ways other people weren't allowed. If someone close to him had died then, Jiyong would have attached himself to Seunghyun like glue, sleeping with him at night, reaching for his hand in the day, murmuring consolations through every patch of silence.  
  
He would have done _something._  
  
Ten years later, he is a statue.  
  
Their friendship now feels less sincere than it did when they were barely grown. Full of bravado and false confidence, their interactions were real and feeling as kids. As adults with years of experience and shared openness they feel miles apart. Jiyong wonders how long this _friend_ thing will take. How long until the friendship feels _real_ , the way every previous incarnation of their relationship felt real.  
  
He understands that friendship has restrictions. It's one thing to go from friends to _more_ -than, it's something else to go from being in a relationship to _'just friends'._ Shutters and doors close. The world gets smaller. You become fenced in. It's hard to go from something encompassing and natural to something so restrictive. It's hard to know so much about Seunghyun but not have the reason or right to use that information to make their lives better. It's hard to sit in Seunghyun's apartment and think of a joke or a connection to a memory he wants to share but _can't_ because it's a reminder of their dead and buried relationship. How can you be friends with somebody if everything you say to each other harks back to when you were in love?  
  
He told Seunghyun that night in the car they could make new memories so they stopped living in the old. Weeks later, new memories are still few and far between. It feels like they're just trying not to reawaken old ones. The whole thing is more painful than Jiyong expected.   
  
In the calm centre of the crematorium complex at the cemetery, he allows himself to wonder how different things would be if the restrictions of friendship weren't keeping him shackled. If instead of sitting here in silence he would be saying the right things. Maybe he would have held Seunghyun's hand by now.  
  
'I'm sorry about what I said to you the other day,' Seunghyun says suddenly.  
  
'You already apologised'.  
  
'I don't think it was enough'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, knowing well enough this is Seunghyun's attempt to divert attention away from the reason they are here. He is so reluctant to talk about his feelings or his grandmother, he would rather dredge up a fight. Jiyong doesn't bite. He doesn't want to talk about what happened. He knows Seunghyun didn't mean it.  
  
'It's fine'.  
  
His eyes gloss over decorative stones and patches of fake grass. He wonders how long Seunghyun can avoid his grandmother’s death. Being here should have brought him a measure of closure but it hasn't. They haven't talked about any of it but Jiyong has eyes and a brain and experience enough to recognise what's going on behind the rigid silence.  
  
As if on cue, Seunghyun stands. He pulls his coat tighter around his middle and shakes his legs one at a time like an old man trying to work out the kinks.   
  
'We should go'.  
  
Jiyong tries to imagine some improvement if they leave now, if Seunghyun goes home without facing this. How long can you really last without working through a death? Can you swallow it down forever? Won't those feelings eventually come loose and devour you? What was the point in coming here if not to _deal._  
  
'I think we should stay,' Jiyong answers gently. 'I think you should sit back down and talk about what you're _feeling_. If we leave now, nothing will change. You won't feel any different'.  
  
'How do you think I feel?'  
  
'Guilty'.  
  
'For what?'  
  
Jiyong weighs up the pros and cons of answering honestly. He isn't a psychotherapist or a grief counsellor. He has no experience with death. What right does he have to tell Seunghyun how to live? At the same time, he knows his weaknesses. He knows what Seunghyun does to himself in times of crisis. Jiyong knows, intuitively, the damage not facing this will cause.  
  
'For not visiting her sooner when she was dying,' Jiyong posits calmly. 'For not going to the cremation, for not being the perfect grandson you think you should have been while she was still alive. You feel guilty. You've put away her photographs. You are _scared_ to talk about her. You finally came to see her and you were only in there for two minutes'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and absently scratches his brow.  
  
'Are you finished or are you going to tell me more about how I feel?'  
  
'I'm not trying to tell you how you feel---'  
  
'You are,' Seunghyun answers. 'By all means, continue. Tell me how to grieve and how to behave. What can I do to make you feel better? I didn't talk to the ashes enough? What was I supposed to say to the jar? She's not in there Jiyong, she's _dead'._  
  
'You can be crass all you want, it doesn't change anything. Why do you think this is the first time you've come here? It's guilt. Every time we're together it's like a third person in the room. I think you're shouldering the blame for her death because of the choices you made. What's more, I think you like it'.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'You think bearing the burden for what happened to her is what you deserve? I think you're embarrassed about being sick and the choices you made. You think you're not allowed to miss her and grieve for her _because_ of those choices, so you feel guilty. Feeling like shit forever is your atonement'.  
  
Jiyong talks at Seunghyun and then talks some more. As he speaks, he realises how much time he has spent thinking about Seunghyun and his situation.  
  
'You’re steeped in self-loathing, and you're searching for excuses to punish yourself,' Jiyong says. 'We haven't had an honest conversation since you got back but I can see it all over you. I've known you too long not to. You feel ashamed. It doesn't make any sense to me but I can _see_ it and enough is enough, honestly'.  
  
Jiyong watches from the bench every minute change in Seunghyun's face as he finishes speaking---the slackening of his jaw, his brow relaxing. His posture visibly softens. Jiyong can almost see the rigidity leave Seunghyun from the neck down, moving in one slow wave. It's unnerving.   
  
'I wasn't there,' Seunghyun answers calmly. 'Not when it mattered. Not when my Grandfather died. Not when she was left on her own. I should have spent more time with her but I didn't. When I was in Japan, I only called her a few times. I cut her out of my life,' he says. ‘My problems were paramount. I didn't want to talk to her, so I didn't'.  
  
The calm makes Jiyong's heart ache.  
  
'She was sick for months before she died. My sister told me. Her eyes were failing. She couldn't get around because her knees were giving in. She had to rely on people for everything. She needed help with the groceries and the garden, and cooking and cleaning. I didn't know that,' Seunghyun says. 'I didn't know there was anything wrong'.  
  
'You were _busy_ ,' Jiyong interjects, 'you don't think what you were going through was important?'  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers simply. 'She did everything for me. From the second I was born to the second she died, she was looking out for me. I never returned the favour. I never did anything for her that mattered'.  
  
'Do you honestly believe that?' Jiyong asks, knowing damn well that isn't true. Seunghyun did a lot for his grandmother. From the moment he was financially able to support her, he did. He went above and beyond. He re-did her house, he paid for his grandfather’s funeral, he bought her whatever she wanted, donated money to local groups she was part of so she could spend time with her friends doing this and that. He called her all the time and visited more than Jiyong ever visited his own grandparents. He loved her. Seunghyun was _always_ there just not at the end and that wasn't his fault.  
  
'I hurt people,' Seunghyun shrugs. 'I hurt you, I hurt my mother, I hurt my grandmother. I will always choose to run away when things are hard. So, you're right, I feel guilty. I'm supposed to. Why are you trying to defend me after what I’ve done to you? After everything?'  
  
'Because you're human,' Jiyong cuts in. 'Sorry to burst your misery bubble but you're a human being, Seunghyun. You make mistakes and you're weak sometimes and you make bad choices. We all do. You don't own the monopoly on fucking up'.  
  
Seunghyun looks to the ground.  
  
‘You really think Japan was you running away?’ Jiyong asks. ‘Christ. You left because you _had_ to. Yes, it hurt me and the others too probably, but you thought being gone would help you. Do you think for a second we wouldn't have encouraged you to go if we knew you felt that way? If disappearing into the night could help you now, I would pack your bags. Your grandma would have felt that way. Whether she knew the story or not, she would have understood. I wouldn't be surprised if she figured you out before you even left,' Jiyong says. 'You didn't run away, you did what you had to. They're not the same thing'.  
  
'You don't know me that well,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'If I don't, who does?'  
  
Seunghyun smiles and nods slowly, his eyes drawn to the ground, to the decorative stones and fake grass beneath his shoes. After a prolonged silence, he sits in his former place and stretches out his legs.  
  
'I wasn't coming back,' he says dully. 'When I left, I was going for good. I never thought being gone would help, I thought the opposite. Those letters I wrote to you and my mother, I wrote them before I left. You don't have _everything_ figured out. If I feel guilty, it's because I have a lot to be sorry for'.  
  
_Ah,_ Jiyong thinks. The suicide notes. That thick, padded envelope in the depths of his closet saying god knows what. Seunghyun's last goodbye. He wrote them before he left? When? When they were eating lunch on that last day, when they were climbing the stairs and Jiyong was dreaming about holidays to sun and snow alike, had Seunghyun already written them? Had he already said goodbye?  
  
Somehow, Seunghyun's words aren't the shock they should be. Jiyong doesn't gasp or swoon or feel sick. He feels older. More well shielded. Instead, he exhales slowly and stretches out his legs, mirroring Seunghyun's posture. Seunghyun's words spark a moment of clarity.  
  
'Is all this guilt because you're still alive? Do you feel guilty for not killing yourself?' Jiyong asks. 'You feel guilty that your Grandmother is dead and you're still here? Is that what all this is about? That's why you can't look at her pictures or talk about her? That's why you look ashamed all the time? Why you go quiet after you laugh? You feel embarrassed for still being here?'  
  
Seunghyun looks across, eyes wide with surprise and vulnerability. He is laid bare. In his face, Jiyong sees everything. He sees the whole sad, confronting truth and it doesn't frighten him or break his heart. It kicks down a door.  
  
Jiyong grabs Seunghyun's hand and squeezes. It doesn't matter that he lied weeks earlier, saying he never wanted to die. Whenever Seunghyun wrote the notes, it doesn't matter. None of it really matters. What's done is done. On some level, the way Seunghyun feels is a positive. For him to feel so guilty and embarrassed for being alive, he must plan on staying that way. When he speaks in the silent garden, Seunghyun is quiet but calm.  
  
'I don't know why I came here today,' he gestures towards the door leading back inside, to the rows of ashes. 'I didn't know what to say. What am I supposed to say to her?'  
  
'Tell her you love her,' Jiyong says quietly, 'and that you're doing your best'.  


  
  
*

  
  
  
He drives Seunghyun home when it's all said and done. On the way, caught in traffic with Seunghyun asleep in the passenger seat, he thinks. He feels. He recognises old feelings reawakening. Subtle longings for things past. Staring intermittently at Seunghyun's sleeping face, in between long views of the car in front, Jiyong's mind dredges up memories. Little moments over the years he thought forgotten and inconsequential. Times when he was sick and Seunghyun took care of him and every time their roles reversed. Quiet moments of support. Cheering post-it notes on the fridge and midnight calls to say _good night._ Sending smiley face texts on hard days and real smiles on good ones. Small laughs. Comfortable silences.  
  
They make him feel something.  
  
He doesn't know where it comes from but it comes and it stays. It refuses to leave. Maybe it's the ambient temperature or his tiredness. Maybe it's the faint smell of Seunghyun's cologne. Maybe the silent, tedious drive reminds him of the time they drove to Gyeongju on a whim. Seunghyun fell asleep then too. Jiyong remembers thinking how nice and peaceful a simple life could be. Stealing glances at Seunghyun's sleeping face, he let himself imagine they were different people living different lives. He felt protective of him that day though he can't remember why.   
  
He feels it now.  
  
Somewhere between the cemetery and home, Jiyong's instinct to protect Seunghyun reawakens in full. Unexpected. It rears up from nowhere and begs attention. It isn't brotherly love or habitual affection. It's that feeling—- that _thing._ Staring at the lights of the car in front, stuck in traffic for eternity, it strikes Jiyong suddenly, without warning.  
  
_I would die for him. If I could ever take his place to save him, I would. No matter what happens to us, no matter how many years go by._  
  
Once he feels it, Jiyong carries the weight of it everywhere he goes.

 

 

  1.   
**_'Lies'_**  
  
*  
  
  
After the cemetery, Seunghyun bounces back. He turns down a few visits but accepts more often than not. They watch TV, they eat, they chit-chat. Life goes on. Jiyong tries not to think about the drive home from the cemetery. He tries not to think about that _feeling_ he can't send back. Sprung from its trap, from the recesses where he left it, he can't shake it off. Every cheerful word from Seunghyun seems to make it more resilient. Every time he strays, Seunghyun pops into his head and demands attention. _I am important, all eyes on me._  
  
In a way, it complicates things.  
  
Things at home are good. For the brief hours Hyeong-bae spends at home before falling asleep, they don't fight or waste time. Things feel the way they did in the months before Seunghyun first returned, when the two of them found their groove. He and Hyeong-bae feel like friends again, not the roommates with benefits they had started to become.  
  
All the same, Seunghyun occupies Jiyong's thoughts more often than he should. It's only natural given the time they're spending together but it makes Jiyong feel guilty for keeping so many secrets, even if they aren't monumental or life changing. Secrets are secrets. Telling Hyeong-bae he's out with friends or at work when he's on Seunghyun's balcony is a lie. Telling him he's not thinking about anything in particular when he's thinking about how Seunghyun is, is a lie.   
  
  
  
  
  

  2.   
**VI**. **_'Sweaters'_**



 

_*_

  
Christmas seems to come suddenly, the way it sometimes does. It is far away and then it's half over without warning. Christmas is Christmas. Everything is themed. Everyone is cold. There are decorated trees in shopping centres and party invitations in his phone.  
  
Jiyong spends Christmas with Hyeong-bae and nothing much happens. They stay in bed most of the day, exchange lacklustre presents with neither in the Christmas spirit and the day passes like any other. They talk, they fuck, they watch TV. Jiyong calls his parents who are equally unenthused about Christmas this year. The day trudges on.   
  
At night, Jiyong calls Seunghyun who answers his cell amid a cacophony of sound. He is actually out like he promised he would be, instead of sitting alone at home. He said he would visit his mother but Jiyong can tell from the background noise he isn't with her. He doesn't ask. As long as Seunghyun is with people, it hardly matters.  
  
'I have a present for you,' Seunghyun shouts down the line.  
  
'I hope it's an ugly sweater'.  
  
'You'll have to wait and see'.  
  
'Does this mean I have to buy you a present?'  
  
'No. You buy terrible presents. When are you free?'  
  
'Tuesday'.  
  
'Alright. I'll give it to you then'.  
  
'Right. Sweater on Tuesday'.  
  
'It's not a sweater'.  
  
Standing on the balcony in the cold, Jiyong hopes it is. One with tinsel and a candy cane and a glowing nose on an unwilling reindeer. _I could bring that into vogue,_ he thinks. He always meant to buy a pair of ugly sweaters for them to wear at Christmas, it just never happened. Things always got in the way.  
  
In the dark, he can see the glow of his cigarette and his own breath coming out in frozen plumes. They talk for a few minutes about nothing in particular. Seunghyun describes the scene around him with obvious embellishments from movies and Jiyong listens, entertained.  
  
When it's all said and done, he says goodbye with a tacked on _Merry Christmas_ and Seunghyun says it back.  
  
It's an okay day.

 

 

 

**VII. _'The heart wants'_**

_*_

  
When he tears open the first soft present, Jiyong laughs. Despite all his hopes, the fabric revealing itself beneath the wrapping paper still comes as a surprise. He wastes no time. He pulls the heavy sweater over his head in sheer _joy_. It's everything he hoped for. Reindeer, candy-cane, tinsel, a small light on Rudolph's nose that threatens to set him alight at any moment. It's perfect.   
  
When he puts it on, he does a twirl for dramatic effect and Seunghyun smiles the kind of smile that makes him feel things he shouldn't feel. He plays with the red light on his sweater to break their gaze.  
  
'I knew it was a Christmas sweater'.  
  
'This isn't the present,' Seunghyun answers, 'I just bought that because you wanted one'.  
  
'Where's yours?'  
  
'I'm not wearing one of those for anybody'.  
  
Jiyong touches Seunghyun's hair fondly, instinctively.   
  
'I know you bought a matching one, so go put it on'.  
  
  
  


  
*  


  
  
  
  
When the time comes to exchange their real presents, Jiyong is stunned into quiet silence by what he is given. It surprises him enough to find a cassette tape, further still when he sees which one. _Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)_ \--- he owned a copy when he was younger. It was one of the first he ever bought, right before CD's came into fashion.  
  
He cracks the case open without thinking, dazed for a minute, taken back to his childhood. He's about to gush in gratitude, _this is awesome, sentimental_ when he notices something unexpected. In the corner of the jacket, so small he can barely see it, is a face drawn in pen. Beside that is a sentence. Scrawled lyrics so juvenile they are _almost_ good. He has to bring them to his face to read them, each word curved along the edge of the paper to avoid the picture on the inside.  
  
This is his cassette.  
  
_His_ cassette.  
  
When he was still a kid, just starting to think about rapping as something important, just migrating from, ' _I want to dance and entertain,'_ to ' _I want to do this, I want to rap,'_ \--- he bought this _exact_ cassette and one afternoon, short of paper, wrote on the inside jacket so he wouldn't forget an inspired line that had come to him at school.  
  
His parents sold all his cassettes after he moved out and into the dorms with the others. He lamented a few times about the loss but remembered being especially sad about his Wu-Tang tapes. Somehow, a decade later he has one back. One of his _own_ cassettes. It's unmistakeable. It's almost impossible for Seunghyun to have found it. Impossible to imagine Seunghyun would have known about the inside. Coincidence? Serendipity?  
  
'How the hell did you get this?'  
  
'Years ago you said you missed your old cassettes. Every time I find a shop that sells old records and pre-owned stuff, I have a look'.  
  
'No, how did you get _this_. This was mine. I drew this on the inside? How could you have found this? I don't understand how you _found_ this'.  
  
'By accident. You told me you sometimes drew on the insides. I was never looking for your doodles, it was just something I remembered. The other day I found that tape in a store and cracked it open. I recognised your writing. It was a happy accident'.  
  
Jiyong stares at Seunghyun with his mouth agape, the cassette physically vibrating in his trembling hands. There's just no way. Not in ten thousand lifetimes could the universe pull together to find this tape. Not in one hundred thousand would Seunghyun remember his words or his messy scrawl as a kid.  
  
No way.  
  
Jiyong expected a designer trinket or some silly random thing that harked back to a shared joke. He never expected Seunghyun's present to be so impossibly sentimental. For a minute, the lines blur. He can't remember who they are to one another. He can't remember how he's supposed to feel.  
  
'So where's _my_ present?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'I don't want to give it to you now, it's stupid,' Jiyong mutters. He could buy Seunghyun 1000 gifts and never come close to what he's just been given. He feels embarrassed for not being able to reciprocate.  
  
'Come on, give it to me'.  
  
Dazed still and confused, Jiyong reluctantly hands over Seunghyun's present. It's nothing, some stupid joke a year old. Something he's kept in a shoebox in his closet with other mementos. It's just that old cologne.  
  
'It's the cologne I wanted?'  
  
'It's stupid'.  
  
'How did you even know I wanted this?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'You saw a picture of it on my laptop once and made a noise'.  
  
'They stopped making this last year. How did you get it?'  
  
'I'm very influential,' Jiyong jokes. 'I pulled some strings'.  
  
He doesn't mention that he bought it way back when. That he had it the day Seunghyun left. He doesn't mention that he kept it all this time, waiting for a new opportunity to give it to him. With his old cassette in his hands, none of that seems important.  
  


 

  
*  


  
  
The ends of their cigarettes glow in the dark and Jiyong spares a moment to flick ash onto the concrete. The cold leaches in from all sides. It gets him through his ugly red Christmas sweater. From the balcony off Seunghyun's room they can see the houses across the street lit up to varying degrees.  
  
Seunghyun smells like his new cologne, dabbed gingerly on his neck like an old woman applies perfume. He is standing there in his matching Christmas sweater with a blinking light over the breast, talking about God knows what.  
  
Jiyong hasn't been listening.  
  
Seunghyun's present is burning a hole in his pocket.  
  
In another life he would have cried, unembarrassed. He would have thrown his arms around Seunghyun's neck and kissed him for hours in stunned gratitude. He would have spent the rest of his life thanking him, making it up to him, in awe of him. For Seunghyun to have found that cassette is providence. That's what it feels like. The clouds parted, angels descended. Heaven itself moved chess pieces to make this happen.  
  
As much as he is dazed and touched and happy, Jiyong is miserable.  
  
While Seunghyun talks beside him, he feels alone. He feels like he has been beaten and knocked around, as if he has ignored great cosmic signs.  
  
On the frigid balcony, Jiyong wonders if he and Seunghyun have passed each other by. Their lives ran a similar course for a decade, straight lines parallel to one another. Now he wonders if their lines intersected somewhere, shooting off in opposite directions. He wonders if it's too late for them to be who they are supposed to be.  
  
It's naïve but for a while, the cassette feels like a light in the dark saying, _'Head this way. You're going in the wrong direction'._  


  


**VIII. _'Pulling Back'._**  
  
*  
  
After the surprise and subsequent lunacy wrought by the cassette tape at Christmas, Jiyong tries to put more space between his meetings with Seunghyun. As much as he feels like a more complete person being able to talk to him and laugh with him, the waters are becoming muddied. For days after their gift exchange, Jiyong felt miserable. Part of his mind kicked back a few years and expected Seunghyun's face around every corner as if they were still together. He felt things he shouldn't feel.  
  
The cassette was too sentimental, too personal. It crossed a boundary they should have erected from the get-go, if they only knew how. Jiyong's only defence is to pull away, however subtle. Instead of spending three or four days a week together, he makes it two. Seunghyun doesn't comment on the reduced hours for which Jiyong is grateful. He isn't sure he could explain if asked.  
  
With more time on his hands, he tries to refocus. It's true that Hyeong-bae is gone more often than he is home but that leaves _hours_ of every evening to spend with each other. Jiyong tries to be more present than he has been, in body _and_ mind. They talk more, they have sex more, in his mind Jiyong pushes Seunghyun further and further away.

  
  
  
  
  


  1. **_'Best laid plans'_**



_*_

 

'Can I ask you something?'  
  
'Sure'.  
  
Jiyong focusses on the phone in his hand, tilting the screen at every sudden corner, scenery whipping by on his game. They talk over the screeching of tires. He is on the floor in the lounge-room of Seunghyun's apartment, leaning against the couch where Seunghyun is tiredly sprawled, his ankles crossed over the end.  
  
They have finally reached a point where they don't have much to say to each other outside of shared TV shows. Seunghyun doesn't go anywhere except therapy sometimes and AA and Jiyong doesn't even do that much. All he does is knock on Seunghyun's door and spend hours on the floor or lounge watching movies or playing on his phone. They've cultivated a comfortable atmosphere that reminds him of the way things used to be, minus the coupley stuff. They don't talk much but they have an okay time.  
  
Things are what they are.  
  
Seunghyun sometimes says things out of the blue that will trigger a memory or remind Jiyong how alike they are and those feelings he hasn't learned to suppress will spring out of their cages. He tells himself this kind of thing takes time. Loving somebody isn't the same as being _in love_ with them. He tells himself that in moments of doubt at home, when Hyeong-bae smiles or touches him and the guilt begins to surface.  
  
The sporadic feelings and dreams and quiet yearnings are only natural. They've been spending a lot of time together and Jiyong has _years_ worth of memories. His brain is bound to dredge things up every now and then. None of it means anything. Those few moments and nights of agonising self-doubt don't _mean_ anything. That single night he left Seunghyun's apartment and cried for no reason--- didn't _mean_ anything.  
  
Despite all that, it's easier for him to spend their hours together on his phone or watching videos. It distracts him from the endless onslaught of questions he has to keep asking himself. Thus the tedious racing game he has been playing for twenty minutes on Seunghyun's floor.  
  
'Why haven't you put out a new album?' Seunghyun asks.   
  
Jiyong tenses at the sudden question. His car crashes into a railing and the screen goes grey. A faint shadow of his failure is replayed in slow motion across the screen. He can see the exact moment Seunghyun spoke, the red Ferrari suddenly veering off course.  
  
'Just haven't'.  
  
'Why not? What happened to your plan? You always meant to release something a few months before enlisting. Well, we're there. That's now. Where's the album?'  
  
'There isn't one,' Jiyong answers. 'I don't have anything'.  
  
He restarts the level and tries to focus on the game. He watches the traffic lights in the corner go from red to orange to green. He is back at the start, some piazza in Italy racing by. In seconds, it gives way to countryside and steep mountains.   
  
'Nothing? Why not?'  
  
Jiyong shoots daggers at Seunghyun's reflection in the screen of his phone.  
  
'Because I haven't written anything. Call it a dry spell'.  
  
'How long have you been having a dry spell?'  
  
_'Two guesses,'_ Jiyong snaps.  
  
The sudden spike of anger surprises him. He feels like a cat who's had its tail unexpectedly _yanked_ on. Despite that, the feeling passes quickly and Seunghyun's reflection looks cowed, so Jiyong answers to diffuse the sudden _tension_.  
  
'When you left, things changed. My life got turned around. I haven't figured it all out yet. It's no big deal'.  
  
'How often do you write?'  
  
'Weren't you listening?'  
  
'You said you hadn't written anything, I get that. You must be _writing_ though. You must have scraps and ideas written down. Your notebooks. You're still doing that?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer. There is a pile of notebooks sitting in his closet and a handful in the home studio. He remembers seeing some on the bookshelf, tidied and squared away. He can't remember the last time he opened one. He can't remember the last time he even thought about it.  
  
'You've been writing every day since you were twelve years old. You're saying you don't do that anymore?'  
  
'Bingo'.  
  
'At _all?'_  
  
Jiyong sighs and lets his head drop back against the cushion.  
  
'I tried. I even worked on some tracks with a producer at work but it didn't lead anywhere. It never does. If I want to work on music, I burn out. The urge doesn't last. When I want to write, I can't. Nothing happens'.  
  
He barely realises the truth of it until he says it out loud. Now that Seunghyun has asked, Jiyong is aware of how much time has passed since he last thought about music. For months, it has been a skeleton pushed to the back of his closet.  
  
'Sorry,' Seunghyun answers mutedly.  
  
'It's fine. It's not like I _need_ music. I'm managing without it, right?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't say anything. He doesn't even crack a smile. In the absence of an answer, Jiyong adopts Seunghyun's low timbre and speaks on his behalf, voice filled with sarcasm and aplomb. _'You're right Jiyong. You're doing just fine. Good job'._  
  
When he finishes, Seunghyun is watching him intently with unmistakable pity. It shocks him. That same knee-jerk feeling comes rushing back, like a child has yanked on his tail.  
  
'Don't look at me like that'.  
  
'Like what?'  
  
'Like you feel sorry for me. I'm not a charity case, Seunghyun. I can live without music, it hasn't been that long. I've taken breaks this long before'.  
  
'I don't think this is like those other times'.  
  
'How would you know?'  
  
'Because you always wrote things, even when they didn't pan out. You kept working. You're not doing that any more'.  
  
'So what?' Jiyong answers heatedly. 'Music isn't _every_ facet of my life. I have other interests and aspirations beyond writing pop songs for teenagers. Maybe I've grown up'.  
  
Seunghyun's eyebrows raise. When he answers, it's with the calm, studious tone of a therapist or a parent and Jiyong feels _it_ again, only this time his tail isn't being yanked on, it's torn clean off.  
  
'I didn't know you were so miserable. I'm sorry,' Seunghyun says sincerely. 'All this time you've been coming over, I haven't asked about you. I should have asked how you were. I didn't know you were in a similar situation to me'.  
  
'Our situations are not comparable'.  
  
'I lost everything that mattered to me. So have you'.  
  
It seems as though Jiyong hears Seunghyun's words before he's even finished saying them. When he recoils, Seunghyun is _still_ talking, still drawing out those last few words. _So have you_. These words strike Jiyong at his core. It isn't until they pass Seunghyun's lips that he allows the possibility to exist.  
  
Maybe he's right.  
  
The feelings that wash over Jiyong strike quickly, one after the other. What only takes a few seconds feels like a dozen lifetimes of being raised up and knocked down, over and over, unable to get ahead. He stands suddenly, unsettled. He has to get as far from this conversation as possible. If he doesn't, thoughts and fears he has buried will start nipping at his heels.  
  
'I have to go'.  
  
'Jiyong? What---'  
  
Seunghyun sits up suddenly, his arm shooting out to try and change his mind but Jiyong waves him off. He doesn't stop. He doesn't want to have this conversation or any other. Fuck music. Fuck _talking_ about it. He leaves. Quickly.  
  
When the door closes behind him it feels like the world around him has changed. It looks the same, feels the same, smells the same--- but it's not.

  
  


*

  
  


When he gets home, Hyeong-bae is coming in from the balcony. He waves a hand in the air to dispel the lingering smoke from his cigarette and meets Jiyong behind the couch for a kiss.  
  
'Last one for a while,' he says tiredly. 'I'm getting sick'.  
  
Jiyong pats the small of his back and guides him into a hot shower while he embarks on a twenty-minute search for medicines of every ilk. By the time Hyeong-bae is crawling death-like into bed, Jiyong has perched himself on the end with an armful of boxes and bottles. He lays them out one by one like a set of tarot cards.  
  
'Sore throat, dry cough, chest cough, headache, migraine, cold and flu, fever patches and vitamins. Choose your poison'.  
  
Hyeong-bae gives a cursory look at the collection on the bed but when his head hits the pillow he becomes an unmoving cocoon of blankets. Jiyong feels his warm forehead and clammy skin and chooses _for_ him. He slaps a fever patch on his forehead, makes him swallow some flu tablets and watches him fall asleep in what seems only seconds.   
  


  
*  
  
  


Hours later when Jiyong crawls into bed, showered and fed and gratefully distracted up to this point by sanitising the house, Hyeong-bae mumbles to show he's awake. He sounds out something that could be, _'how was your day?'_ or something else entirely.  
  
Jiyong ignores him either way. With his face flattened against the pillow, Jiyong asks the question that has begun to gnaw at his brain. Even with the distraction of cleaning he feels pieces of himself being chipped away.  
  
'Can I ask you something?'  
  
_'Mmhmmm'._  
  
'Do you think it's weird that I haven't put out an album? That I'm not writing anything?'  
  
Sensing this isn't a casual question, Hyeong-bae rolls onto his side and clears his throat. Jiyong watches him trying to rouse himself from _sleepy-sick-land._ To his credit, when Hyeong-bae finally answers he sounds almost normal.  
  
'I don't know. Yes? No?'  
  
'Well which? Yes or no?'  
  
Hyeong-bae exhales quietly and says, 'I guess no. If you aren't writing music it's for a reason. Just because you've done music up until now doesn't mean you always will or will always want to. Maybe your interests are changing? You're different now to how you were when I met you. People change, even you'.  
  
Jiyong is momentarily stunned by the scope of his answer and that sick as a dog, he had the wherewithal to put it together. Without answering, Jiyong kisses his warm forehead and relieves him of his duty.  
  
In another life, maybe that could have been the right answer.   


  
  


  1. **_Premonitions._**



_*_

 

A week after his initial infection, Hyeong-bae is marginally better but only because he says so, not through any medical say-so. Jiyong has spent a nightmarish six days trying to take care of him. He is the worst _possible_ patient.  
  
Hyeong-bae goes to work each day despite his fever staying put and a cough that moves into his chest. It doesn't matter how many times Jiyong tells him working nights in the cold may actually kill him, Hyeong-bae persists. He says, _'It's only for a few more days,'_ ignoring Jiyong's constant retorts of, _'if you make it that long'._  
  
His current job has him working middays until nine and despite being almost complete, Jiyong expects a call every night saying he has dropped dead from pneumonia. Setting up some lights in a building across town seems increasingly less important than his boyfriend staying alive. Like himself, Hyeong-bae won't see a Doctor unless a limb is hanging off and the zealous doling out of medication isn't working half as well as Jiyong hoped.  
  
For the fifth day in a row they are together in the bedroom. Jiyong is sitting on the end of their bed watching Hyeong-bae get dressed. Like every other day, he _lists_ to the side every now and then before righting himself. He probably has an ear infection. Jiyong mentally adds it to the list of soon-to-be fatal illnesses about to deprive him of a partner.  
  
'I can't imagine you're doing a good job at work. No offence. You can hardly stand up. You think fidgety electrical work is a good idea? You're going to kill yourself'.  
  
Hyeong-bae shoots him a crotchety look.  
  
'I told you, I'm fine'.  
  
'Your face looks like a _tomato_ from trying to hold in your coughs for the last five minutes. You can pretend you're not sick all you want, it won't change anything. I've heard you cough 500 times since midnight. I _know_ you're sick. Just cough if you need to'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks frustrated but turns away all the same and let’s go of the string of coughs he was trying to hold in. Hearing them makes Jiyong cringe. They are wet and violent and they go on and on. When Hyeong-bae isn't coughing he can barely breathe and when he does, nothing changes. It sounds like he has a fist in his throat.  
  
From across the room Jiyong can see Hyeong-bae's chest through his sweater. He can see his uneven breathing and the subtle sheen of sweat on his skin. Jiyong has put up with this for _days_ too long. Part of him imagined harsh words and motherly reminders were all he could do to combat this stubbornness.   
  
Today, something is different. If he lets Hyeong-bae go to work like this, something bad will happen. While Hyeong-bae tries to button up his shirt, Jiyong leaves him to it. In the furthest part of the apartment, he does best impersonation and calls in sick on his behalf.   
  


  
*  
  


  
  
When Hyeong-bae physically stumbles into the hall by the front door in search of his shoes, he doesn't notice Jiyong standing with his back to the door. He doesn't register what's going on until it's time for him to leave and Jiyong is blocking his path with a hand held between them.  
  
'I called your boss and said you were sick. You're staying here'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's reaction is anger at first. He tries to brush past Jiyong but can't. Anger morphs into frustration and childish retorts. It lasts more than a minute and only ends when Jiyong snaps and throws open the front door.  
  
'You know what? Fine. Go to work. Collapse and die somewhere. If you make it home you can sleep in the spare room. If you don't care, I don't either'.  
  
Jiyong leaves Hyeong-bae by the door and retreats to the bedroom waiting for Hyeong-bae's sorry ass to follow him and he does, eventually. With a frown that takes up half his face, Hyeong-bae walks in sullenly and shrugs off his jacket.  
  
'Fine. I'm sick'.  
  
  
  


*

  
  


For all the frustration and energy Jiyong pours into nursing the world’s biggest baby, he is glad for the distraction. While Hyeong-bae is sick, Jiyong doesn't think about Seunghyun or what he _said_. He doesn't think about anything.

 

  
  


  1. **_'Shit!'_**



_*_

 

'Are you _sure_ you want me to go out? You're still sick. What if something _happens_ to you?'  
  
Hyeong-bae stands in the hallway in his dressing gown and slippers, his arms folded around his waist like he may actually _die_ if Jiyong doesn't acquiesce.   
  
'I'll be fine,' he answers, pained. 'I feel better and you're driving me _crazy._ Go out. _Please._ If I think I'm about to die, I'll call you. Trust me. Go out. Have fun. Leave me in _peace'_.  
  
Though Jiyong hasn't been much for socialising lately, mothering Hyeong-bae through his monster chest infection has worn him out. Jiyong hasn't seen them but apparently outside the apartment, _trees_ still exist. _And_ lights and fresh air and human beings who don't cough and choke and gurgle every four seconds because their lungs are disgusting germ factories.   
  
He needs a night out.  
  
When he sent a few exploratory texts, most of his friends replied with the same address for a bar in Itaewon so that's where he's headed. After the fortnight he's had, he can clearly see in his mind a bar and a short cool glass of vodka on the rocks. He hasn't had a drink in months but it's time. For the first time in what feels like decades, he wants to go _out_. He wants to see his friends. He wants to get drunk and be Jiyong pre-breakdown, pre-marriage, pre-everything.  
  
'Fine. I'm going, but call me if you need something, alright? I'm _serious'.  
  
  
_  


*  


 

It's obvious by the looks on everyone's faces, no-one honestly expected to see him at the bar. Friends and partners of friends alike can't hide their surprise. He tries to wave it off but seeing so many familiar faces makes him feel guilty for becoming housebound. There are people at this table he hasn't seen since Seunghyun first disappeared, people he used to see all the time.  
  
He shakes hands and slaps shoulders and determines to get drunk and be merry and to make up for eighteen months of being gone.  
  
The table is run with crisp efficiency. The moment Jiyong appears, he is pushed into a seat and four different kinds of alcohol are slid across the table. In the spirit of togetherness he shuns the old code about not _mixing_ and drinks them all. The table shouts, people laugh, they jeer. The conversation rolls from one topic to the next. At one point Xin sits on somebodies lap so they can sit together and Jiyong is grateful, moreso when the sat-on person decides to leave. After his fourth shot of vodka and a glass of champagne, Jiyong wants to throw his arms around Xin and cry for all the brotherly affection welling up in him. He has missed him. He has missed _everybody._  
  
He is saved from making that profound and loud, _'I love you guys,'_ speech by drunken responsibility. It's his turn to buy drinks, so off he goes.mAlready a little drunk, he manages to find the bar without being stopped or recognised or gawked at. He even remembers what to order and where his credit card is. He's congratulating himself on being a huge success when he carelessly takes a look around.  
  
That's when he sees Seunghyun.  
  
He walks through the door at the exact moment Jiyong turns, leaving him with no choice but to watch the fashion show entrance Seunghyun seems to create. The wind comes in behind him and lifts his coat like Marilyn over a grate. Jiyong is 80% sure that isn't the alcohol. He thinks that actually happens. When Seunghyun walks through the door, the wind blows, no-one blocks his way, the clouds part, the stars align. He makes the perfect entrance and people notice.  
  
When Jiyong walked through the door no-one looked at him twice. In contrast, Seunghyun walks in and every living, breathing human being within ten metres turns their head. Jiyong feels something stir in his gut and assumes it's nausea from the whole gross rom-com scene unfolding around him. He is still squinting through his mixed feelings when Seunghyun spots him, _how serendipitous_ , and makes his way to the bar through the crowd. Jiyong turns and slides his card back into his wallet.  
  
When Seunghyun sidles up beside him, Jiyong feels a moment of shock and embarrassment when he recognises the feeling that welled up in him moments ago. It's attraction. Lust. Whatever. Seunghyun looks amazing. The gaggle of jeers and whispers that sprung up at his entrance were valid.  
  
_It's all those drink I've had._  
  
Seunghyun shouldn't look good. He is dressed like an unemployed student. Grey sweatpants and a white linen shirt with a heavy coat open over the top. His hands are in his pockets. Even for a bar, he is grossly under-dressed but on him it's excusable. Jiyong's face flushes.  
  
'What are you doing here?' he asks.  
  
'What are _you_ doing here?'  
  
_This is a bar. People only come to bars for one reason._  
  
'Right'. Jiyong blushes. 'What _are_ you doing here though. Isn't tonight your AA night?'  
  
'I came from there,' Seunghyun answers, pulling his hands from his pockets. Jiyong watches them unfurl and come to rest on the bar. His gaze lingers.  
  
'You came from AA to a _bar?'_  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, nonchalant.  
  
'I guess. I was restless. Bored maybe. All my friends drink. It's kind of all we have in common'.  
  
'Maybe you should find new friends'.  
  
'Easier said than done'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what to say after that. He feels a thousand degrees and wildly stupid. Seunghyun looks at him with an easy smile that makes him feel that _thing_ again. He catches himself staring at the folds of Seunghyun's shirt.  
  
'I'm surprised you're not wearing a trench-coat and sunglasses'.  
  
'Why?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'I just haven't seen you out in a long time, that's all. I think part of me thought you were getting around like inspector gadget. _Incognito'._  
  
'You think inspector gadget was incognito?'  
  
'You know what I mean. The _spy_ look'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs and Jiyong frowns instinctively. This is not good. Seunghyun can't be in this bar, looking the way he looks, smiling and laughing and being this person. Not when there's vodka to fuel his lunacy because things are _happening_ \--- in his head, in his gut, in _other_ places. His defences are down. The vodka and the beer and that colourful sour thing demolished them.   
  
'I just wear what's comfortable now,' Seunghyun says, oblivious. 'Why, does this look bad?'  
  
'It's fine,' Jiyong answers, withholding the memory of Seunghyun's _entrance_ with the wind and the birds cheeping and the camera shutters going off. In his freshly drunk mind, things have already escalated that far. Seunghyun has become a character in his own Disney movie. The grass bends at his will. Puddles separate to avoid his shoes.   
  
'You've gained weight,' he says instead.  
  
'I saw you two weeks ago. You don't remember what I look like?'  
  
'You've been wearing baggy stuff for weeks, this shirt is kind of tight,' Jiyong answers, pulling on the end discretely, stupidly. 'It looks like you've been working out. You've got that sexy chest thing going on'.  
  
Seunghyun tenses for a moment. Surprised. Jiyong pulls his hand back quickly.  
  
'I absolutely didn't say that'.  
  
Seunghyun points to the fresh drinks on the counter, brushing off his comment.  
  
'You're drinking?'  
  
_Obviously.  
_  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Is that okay?' Seunghyun asks quietly. 'Are _you_ okay?'  
  
He is of course alluding to the near-death experience of yesteryear and the wine-chugging in the kitchen weeks earlier. Jiyong answers him honestly.  
  
'It's fine. I'm fine'.  
  
Seunghyun seems content with that answer. He looks around the bar. Jiyong points to their table so he can wave at people. Do _they_ know Seunghyun is in AA? Jiyong worries about him being here. He worries about that 'thirty days sober' thing and however many days since. Has Seunghyun been in a bar since he quit drinking? Should he ask about that? Seunghyun had the decency to ask about his own drinking and it wasn't a big deal. Shouldn't he do the same?  
  
He abandons everyone's drinks (except his own) and leads Seunghyun onto the terrace upstairs. It is quieter outside and colder. There are a few people at the opposite end but they have privacy.  
  
'Have you been to a bar since you quit drinking?' Jiyong asks, holding a double vodka on the rocks in his right hand. It detracts from the sincerity of his concern. 'Shouldn't you be avoiding places like this?'  
  
'I've been out before,' Seunghyun answers simply. 'It's fine'.  
  
He smiles and Jiyong is taken back by the overload of positive emotion shooting out of his face this evening.  
  
'Why do you keep smiling?  
  
'I'm enjoying the company'.  
  
Jiyong laughs and swallows every drop of vodka in his glass. He leans against the railing, glass dangling from his fingers. Seunghyun mirrors his posture and rests his hip against the wooden slats.  
  
'How are you doing?' Seunghyun asks. 'I haven't spoken to you since---'  
  
'I ran out of your apartment?'  
  
Seunghyun _smiles_ and Jiyong tries to ignore that. What sort of person smiles this much? A few weeks ago they were in a cemetery having a shitty conversation and now he's _Mr. shine._ Jiyong remembers the smile on his face when he opened his Christmas present. He had the same smile on the balcony when he started playing with the light on his sweater. Jiyong felt things then. He feels them now.   
  
_Vodka is bad._  
  
'Sorry I left like that. I meant to call you but things came up. I've been busy'.  
  
'That's alright'.  
  
Seunghyun watches him with calm assurance and interest, like they aren't both silent. As if Jiyong is telling an interesting story. Maybe he's giving him the chance. His eyes are like an outstretched hand but Jiyong doesn't talk. Seunghyun picks up the slack, eventually.  
  
'Can I ask you something?'  
  
'I suppose'.  
  
'Did I upset you that day? I didn't mean to'.  
  
'I guess you did,' Jiyong answers truthfully. He rattles the ice in his glass, wishing he hadn't wasted his drink. 'You were right, that's all. What you said about music. I hadn't thought about it until you asked. Suddenly a bunch of light bulbs came on. I didn't want to ask myself why I wasn't working'.  
  
'But you did ask? What was the answer?'  
  
Jiyong smiles.  
  
'Don't you want to go inside? See your friends? That's what you came here for'.  
  
'I'm okay,' Seunghyun says. 'If I wanted to go inside, I would. Right now I want to talk to you'.  
  
Jiyong notices Seunghyun list towards him. He tries not to feel anything. He tries not to get swept up in simple niceness and platonic smiles and being asked an honest question about his life. He can't remember the last time someone _really_ asked him how he was. It isn't until Seunghyun shows an interest that Jiyong realises he has been waiting for someone to ask for a long long time.  
  
'It's nothing,' he says instinctively. 'Silly stuff'.  
  
'Don't do that'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Just talk,' Seunghyun answers calmly. 'Tell me about it'.  
  
Jiyong rattles the ice in his glass and does something unexpected. He tells the truth, after a series of shrugs and stop-starts. He has barely allowed himself to think about it since Seunghyun left but he says something now. A year and a half worth of suppressed feelings, allowed to breathe for a while.  
  
'Things fell apart after you left,' Jiyong says. 'It was a long time coming. I used what happened with you as an excuse. I was tired. I stopped working. I told myself I needed time. Everything hurt a little too much. I wasn't ready to hit the studio yet'.  
  
'Of course,' Seunghyun answers sincerely.   
  
'Things settled though. Things settled and when it came time to do my job, I couldn't. I felt disconnected. Music didn't seem to matter anymore. I didn't even miss it. When you left, it seemed to make sense that you took everything with you. All these other things I cared about were tied up in you so having all of it gone seemed natural, like that was the way it was supposed to be. I was meant to start fresh'.  
  
He can feel Seunghyun's frown.  
  
'I never got back the urge to make music. A few times I felt things. I tried refocussing. I booked studio time with that producer and we made a few tracks but none of it panned out. At the end of the day, I wasn't writing in my head the way I used to so I just gave up. A few months ago, I stopped thinking about it altogether'.  
  
Seunghyun looks at him with unmistakable pity.  
  
'Jiyong---'  
  
'No,' he cuts in quickly. 'You were right, what you said that day. I _am_ miserable without music. I feel the hole and I lack purpose but I don't know how to do my job any more. I've never felt this way before. I've never been able to throw music away before. Not like this. What if I can't get it back? What if it's too late now? What happens if I try and fail? What if it's not the same? What if I can't write anything meaningful or sincere? What if I go back to music and still feel disconnected?'  
  
Jiyong shakes his glass dully as if the motion can make new vodka appear. He knows the alcohol is affecting his words. He sounds like a teenager in the midst of a tantrum. Better, more applicable words escape him. He says more than he ever intended.  
  
'That's why there's no album. If I don't try, it's still there,' he says, tapping his forehead. 'All that passion and ambition and purpose and security. It's still there. If I don't know I've been robbed, I'm not missing anything, right? It's like that. If I work on music and I don't feel anything? If what I create is no good? What then? If I'm not _G-Dragon_ , who am I? I've changed a lot since you left. I don't want to find out that GD is gone and this is all that's left,' he finishes, tugging on his jacket.  
  
Seunghyun takes a heaving breath and Jiyong looks away, fortifying himself against what he might say. In his head, he hears Hyeong-bae's well-meaning voice saying, ' _people change, even you'.  
  
What if I've changed too much?_  
  
'You won't fail,' Seunghyun says easily. 'When you're ready, it'll happen. Music is who you are. You will write and create until the day you die. Everything you see and hear and do filters through your brain as music. It always has. You can't _lose_ that,' Seunghyun says. 'If you're not ready yet, that's okay. What you're worried about though? It won't happen, I promise you. It's what you were born to do. Deep down you know that'.  
  
For a brief moment, he holds Jiyong's elbow in solidarity or by accident maybe, unthinking. A reflex. Whatever it is, Jiyong feels himself folding like a house of cards, all the component parts of him hitting the ground in a daze.  
  
'If you're not making music right now, it's because you need more time,' Seunghyun says calmly. 'These things you feel are just temporary. They'll pass. I _know_ you. And Jiyong, _G-Dragon_ is not the best part of you, believe me. Every good thing in you comes from _right here'._  
  
When Jiyong looks down, Seunghyun's fingers are on his chest.

  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  


When he is left on the terrace watching Seunghyun's retreating back, he knows that was the right answer.  
  
It fucks things up.  
  
When Seunghyun leaves with a smile to join their friends, Jiyong feels actual loss. It catches him unawares. It isn't the same feeling from the bar, physical attraction and alcohol-driven lust. It's the other thing. The bad thing. The thing he isn't supposed to feel.  
  
  
  


  
*  
  


  
  
  
Back at the table, Jiyong finds himself beside Seunghyun without remembering who sat down first or whether it was an accident or providence. Seunghyun talks with everyone around him, sipping periodically at his soda. He doesn't stare wistfully at the wine across the table. He is a social creature, the belle of the ball. Jiyong can't remember a time when he was ever like this before. He aches. He feels disconnected.  
  
He tries to engage in the conversation but finds himself retreating. Seunghyun's words rattle around in his head. The more he drinks, the more he thinks about Seunghyun's smile and the cassette and the way he looked in his Christmas sweater. He thinks about Seunghyun's words on the terrace and the drive home from the cemetery and the way he felt looking at Seunghyun's sleeping face. He thinks about the hand on him upstairs and how all these little moments mean nothing.  
  
They mean _nothing._  
  
Inconsequential things and moments cobbled together. They are _barely_ friends. For every movie and show watched together, every conversation had, every unexpected heart-to-heart, they aren't really anything? And yet?  
  
This fucking _feeling_.  
  
  
  


  
  
*

 

  


Seunghyun notices his quiet withdrawal and drags him into the conversation wherever possible. At first Jiyong fights him but with each quizzical look finds himself talking more and more. He drinks to make it easier. He drinks to block out Seunghyun's laughter and all the ways it makes him feel. He tries to drink himself back to sanity and reason.  
  
So, the drinks flow and the conversation jumps from hypothetical questions to stories and back again. Jiyong misses one until a sharp elbow catches him in the rib and expectant eyes follow him around the table.  
  
'Well?' Someone asks.  
  
'Well _what?'_  
  
'Which is more important, your first love or your last?'  
  
It's the kind of hypothetical question he has been fielding for thirty minutes but Jiyong notices now, Seunghyun purposely avoiding his gaze. _Your first love or your last?_  
  
'I wasn't listening. What did the rest of you say?'  
  
'Nice try,' someone answers. 'The table wants to know what _G-Dragon_ has to say about it. First or last?'  
  
'I don't know'.  
  
'We'll give you a minute. Think about your first and last love. We'll count your last or current relationship. If you died tomorrow, which one was more important to you?'  
  
Something stirs in Jiyong's gut. His first love is sitting beside him with his long fingers over a pack of cigarettes. He feels the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes, all of them except Seunghyun's.  
  
If he died tomorrow, his first love would have mattered most. Seunghyun lasted years. There are still after-effects and ripples. Hyeong-bae comparatively has been a _blink_ in time. Drunken allowances or not, that isn't the point of the question. It's asking whose face you would see at eighty years old, drawing your last breath. The last person you truly loved or the first?  
  
Jiyong tries to imagine himself sixty years down the line. He tries to imagine a world in which he and Hyeong-bae could last that long. In his mind he paints a scene with a life shared between them. He conjures up shared hobbies and dreams, trips and influences. He dreams up shared successes and unconditional love, _forever._  
  
Then he asks himself the same question.  
  
When he does, he realises he is staring at Seunghyun's hand. Staring not because it's there in front of him but because it's _Seunghyun's_ hand. Jiyong's mind asks him to choose between a lifetime of happiness with Hyeong-bae or Seunghyun's fingers tapping absently on a half-empty packet of cigarettes.  
  
'What do you say?' Someone asks him. 'First or last?'  
  
Jiyong's gaze lingers on Seunghyun's scar.  
  
'First'.  
  
A few jeers go up around him but they pass ignored because Seunghyun's fingers, tap-tapping away on his cigarettes suddenly go still.

 

 

*  
  
  


After that, Jiyong can't seem to take his eyes off Seunghyun's hand. He watches long fingers move from dented pack to table. From this new place, their hands are only inches apart.  
  
Jiyong tells himself it's an accident. It's a coincidence. When he looks back a second and third time and Seunghyun's fingers seem closer, it's an illusion. Despite that, Jiyong feels a longing to touch him. He wants to contrive a way to accidentally brush Seunghyun's fingers with his own, so he stretches out his hand like he has a cramp. When he lays it back down, he is careful to move it a few millimetres closer. He makes it seem accidental.  
  
While the conversation carries on around them, Jiyong gets lost in a world of his contrivance, a world where he and Seunghyun's hands are meant to touch. Caught in a haze of alcohol it's easy to narrow his focus to one square foot of table. It's alcohol that dulls the important senses, that bars his moral compass from having a say, that quiets the rational part of his mind that would otherwise be saying, ' _Don't do this. Don't embarrass yourself. What do you think is going to happen here?'_  
  
But that's the thing--- all he wants is to touch Seunghyun's hand. No more, no less. Their fingers will touch and he'll withdraw as if it were an accident. No harm, no foul.  
  
From the corner of his eye he sees Seunghyun notice the closing distance.  
  
Embarrassed, Jiyong stops plotting and scheming subtle movements. His hand stills. His eyes don't. The next time he spares a glance at their hands on the table, they are closer. Picking up the slack, Seunghyun has bridged the gap between them, so subtly and naturally no-one around them has noticed. If he watches their hands, Jiyong can see it in real time, see Seunghyun's hand moving closer to his own. His face flushes.  
  
Seunghyun carries on his conversations with the group. He laughs at peoples jokes and gestures with his free hand. It's as if his head is in one place, his arm another. Jiyong watches. He tells himself he isn't doing anything wrong here. It's just a hand. A finger. When they touch, the spell will be broken.  
  
This is just a game. A laugh.  
  
It's nothing.  
  
Then Seunghyun's hand is gone. He reaches for his cigarettes and Jiyong feels real disappointment. He flushes from embarrassment. It's deranged. Losing Seunghyun's hand at the last moment, he feels actual _loss._ He closes his eyes and tries to talk sense into himself. He tries to remember how much easier life was without vodka and champagne and that blue tequila thing with the crazy straw. None of this is real, it's just the booze. He mixed drinks. This kind of insanity happens to everybody.  
  
Then it's back.  
  
Seunghyun's hand comes to rest on the table again, barely a centimetre from his own and Jiyong forgets sense. He forgets rationality. Seunghyun did it on purpose. He pulled away so he could come back closer. Jiyong swallows hard. He holds his breath. It's so childish, so stupid, so much nothing--- but Seunghyun's shoe taps his beneath the table and Jiyong knows he has to finish this. He has to bring this game to its natural conclusion. Seunghyun won't go any further so he does it himself. Jiyong bridges the gap between them on the table.  
  
Surrounded by a dozen of their friends, he stretches out his little finger and touches Seunghyun's.  
  
In this moment, something oppressive washes over him. He _aches_. Jiyong closes his eyes and _years_ of love and wanton need flood in from the recesses where he left them. In this moment, he wants Seunghyun more than he has ever wanted anything in his life. In this moment with Seunghyun's little finger curling around his own, Jiyong would give up everything. He would hand back every happy memory, every award, every achievement, every hope and dream, every smile and laugh, every kiss, every touch, every orgasm, every moment of pure bliss and unbridled joy in his life to stay here. To have him. For five minutes. For five more seconds.  
  
Then it's over.  
  
His phone vibrates in his pocket and Jiyong's hand withdraws the way he always intended. No harm, no foul. Just a touch. He pulls his phone from his pocket. His hands are his own.  
  
Caller ID says _Hyeong-bae_ and Jiyong suddenly _remembers_ him. He feels guilty. Flustered. He takes the call but he can barely hear through the music and clamour of voices. Careful not to look at Seunghyun, Jiyong tries to listen but all that cuts through the noise of the bar is a familiar cough.  
  
_'Are you okay? Hang on, I'm walking outside. I can't hear you'._  
  
Quickly, gratefully, without looking back, Jiyong grabs his jacket and heads outside. Light and noise spill out onto the street behind him, shoulders knocked by an oblivious couple outside the door. He pushes past them and walks around the corner, into an alley so he can hear.  
  
_'Hyung?'_  
  
Nothing. Call ended. He must have hung up by accident trying to push through the crowd. Jiyong scrolls through his contacts to call back but stills his hand at Seunghyun's approach. He followed him outside. Jiyong tries not to make eye contact. The biting cold outside drags him far far away from their hands on the table. Out here, he is embarrassed. Out here, he feels like an idiot.  
  
'Everything okay?' Seunghyun asks calmly.  
  
'Probably. I got cut off'.  
  
Jiyong drops his phone by his side and leans against the wall. From here, he is hidden from the street. A dumpster conceals his worn face from any passers-by. The light above him is broken. Seunghyun joins him. With his hands in his pockets, he rests his shoulder against the wall. He doesn't speak. Thoughts of Hyeong-bae fade. Jiyong's lips part before he can stop himself, before he can weigh the pros and cons of trying to explain. He extends his pinky between them.  
  
'About this,' he says quietly. 'That was just--- I mean---'  
  
Seunghyun drags his hand from the warmth of his pocket and hooks their fingers together. Their hands drop between them. Jiyong's eyes follow. His heart pounds in his chest. He feels unhinged, like a schoolboy who has been noticed by a girl for the first time.  
  
'This is---'  
  
'Nothing?' Seunghyun offers.  
  
'---- yeah'.  
  
When Jiyong looks up, Seunghyun is smiling. The same smile he had at the bar, the same one he had on the terrace, the same one he had periodically throughout the night laughing at peoples jokes. The same smile he had the morning after they first slept together. The same smile he had years ago when Youngbae eyed him suspiciously across a table and said, _'you're dating someone. I can tell'._  
  
In this cold, dark alleyway, Seunghyun is smiling the same smile Jiyong has seen a thousand times before and he knows it's all for him. He knows this smile is _about_ him. He knows the fingers on the table were a joint effort. He knows things have gone wrong tonight. He knows he shouldn't be here.  
  
Seunghyun draws closer until their faces are only inches apart and touches Jiyong’s cheek with his free hand. Jiyong recoils at the touch. At the cold. At the openness. They are outside. They are in public. Anyone can see.  
  
'What are you doing?' he asks, staring into Seunghyun's lips.  
  
'Nothing'.  
  
Seunghyun bridges the gap until they are so close Jiyong can feel his lips without touching them.  
  
'I'm drunk,' Jiyong whispers. 'What's _your_ excuse?'  
  
'My excuse is that you're drunk,' Seunghyun echoes.  
  
Drunk or not, Jiyong feels a wave of misery wash over him. Misery in knowing Seunghyun is right. This can only happen if he's drunk. In a rational world, they aren't allowed. In the daylight, they can't touch each other’s hands or _miss_ each other or think about the past because they're adults and things change and at some point, you have to stop pining over what's gone. When relationships stop working, you have to find ones that do. You have to move on. You have to stay out of alleyways beside bars with ex-boyfriend’s fingers interlocked with your own. You have to stop pretending you can kiss each other because you want to, just because you've had too much to drink and it's the perfect excuse.  
  
'This is entrapment,' Jiyong whispers feverishly, bolstered by alcohol.  
  
'Entrapment? How?'  
  
Seunghyun's fingers brush against his cheek and Jiyong's eyes close for a few unwilling seconds. He has to stop this. What happened inside was a moment of madness. What's happening now is a mistake. Seunghyun was never supposed to play along.  
  
'I'm drunk and you said nice things to me and you're wearing my cologne and this stupid outfit,' he complains, tugging on Seunghyun's shirt who pulls back a little so they can see each other’s faces.  
  
'My outfit is entrapment?'  
  
'Grey sweatpants with nothing underneath? _'_  
  
'You can tell I'm not wearing anything under these?' Seunghyun asks, surprised.  
  
'Oh My God,' Jiyong exclaims, shoving his shoulder. 'I can see your dick! Everyone can see your dick! When you walked in tonight, every woman in the bar locked onto your dick! Grey sweatpants are only ever worn to show off dick. Everyone knows that'.  
  
'You looked?'  
  
Jiyong shoves him again.  
  
'What's the matter with you?' he asks seriously, rationality coming back, kicking and screaming. 'I'm seeing somebody. You know that. Get your hand off my face. What makes you think this is okay? Why are you talking to me like this? I'm _allowed_ to be stupid. I'm _drunk._ You should know better'.  
  
Jiyong drags every word out, unwilling, and feels a pang of regret when Seunghyun does what he asks, when he withdraws his hand and puts space between them. Jiyong drunkenly chastises him but it's not until he finishes that he really pays _attention_ to him. For the first time in a couple of hours, he really sees him. Jiyong's mind clears long enough to see that Seunghyun's mind isn't. It's so subtle, so barely noticeable but with the sudden rush of adrenaline, he can _see_ it.  
  
'Oh,' Jiyong whispers sadly. 'You drank?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs in answer and smiles the way people do when they've been caught out.  
  
'Is this the first time since you quit?'  
  
'Yeah,' Seunghyun answers. 'I thought I'd get my first relapse out of the way'.  
  
Jiyong frowns and all his anger dissipates. He touches Seunghyun's face lightly and lets him get a little closer. He lets him bridge that gap between them once more. He _knew_ Seunghyun being here was a bad idea but he didn't say anything. He let him stay. He sat next to him and drank for hours. He shouldn't have done that.  
  
'Can't we both be stupid?' Seunghyun asks. 'Just for a minute?'  
  
Jiyong frowns instinctively. He says Seunghyun's name in the dark. He means to follow up with all the reasons they can't do that, all the reasons being stupid can't be its own reward. He means to rally himself long enough to get serious. Seunghyun drank. How many weeks of hard work has he thrown away? For how long? Was tonight one lapse or will he keep making them? What happened? Why didn't he notice?  
  
Jiyong doesn't quite get there.  
  
Before he can say anything, Seunghyun kisses him. Strong arms fold around him and that _feeling_ rises up again. It stops Jiyong from doing the right thing, from separating them, from ending the cycle of mistakes. He kisses Seunghyun back.  
  
It's graceless the way they fall into one another and how quickly. Their hands move blindly, grabbing fistfuls of jacket and shirt. It isn't brief. It isn't the way a friend kisses another friend. It's instinctive. Seunghyun is warm and soft and perfect and Jiyong could weep for how good and how right it feels, for how long he has unconsciously pined and _ached_ for this.  
  
Though he has kissed Seunghyun a thousand times, it is so _nice_ and gratifying to touch him, to kiss him, to want him. Jiyong combs his fingers through Seunghyun's hair. When they separate, Seunghyun's face is filled with fondness and misery. Jiyong feels the same.  
  
In that moment, something in him comes undone. Some part of him that's sick and tired of being rational, sick of thinking all the time, sick of worrying about what is real and what's not, what is right and what's wrong. Sick of these bullshit interactions between them. They have been 'friends' for weeks and he feels empty. Their time together is boring. It means nothing. The way you can't ever be _really_ satisfied with black and white after seeing in colour--- Seunghyun isn't meant to be his _friend_. They aren't meant to be these people.  
  
Jiyong keens.  
  
He wants to _feel_. Little else. Life is simpler that way, he knows. That's why he used to drink. That's why he drank tonight and why Seunghyun drank. It is easier and better and _kinder_ to give up control. He wants to. He wants to give in. He is so fucking tired.  
  
Jiyong uses Seunghyun's dulled reflexes to control his weight. He manoeuvres him against the wall, his back against cold concrete. Seunghyun smarts in surprise but doesn't resist. He starts to ask _what are you doing,_ but Jiyong cuts him off, bracing a hand against his chest. He holds Seunghyun by the waistband of his pants. He can feel the warmth from his body like an ember in the frigid air.  
  
'Don't talk,' he says. 'Don't make a sound'.  
  
Seunghyun watches him with uncertain eyes but nods. Silent. This will be easier if he's silent, Jiyong tells himself that but it's already easy. Premeditated. He can stop right now but he won't. He is crossing the boundaries between them and it feels so natural. It's easy.  
  
His fingers curl into Seunghyun's waistband, warm against his stomach. On Seunghyun's face he sees a dozen emotions fighting for their place. He is complicated. Jiyong knows that, he's always known. Seunghyun is weak too. He's always known that. His emotions make him weak. He feels too much. That's why Jiyong loves him--- and he does _love_ him. He wants to protect him. He wants to keep him safe and warm and shielded from the world. He wants him to be happy and loved. He wants Seunghyun to feel good and wanted.  
  
Jiyong slips his hand into Seunghyun's pants and grips his cock with steady fingers. Seunghyun exhales in surprise, a little gust of frozen air dissolving between them. Jiyong watches how quickly the haze comes over his eyes, pink lips parting in shock. Seunghyun reaches out. For a moment it seems as if he'll push Jiyong away but he doesn't. He holds onto him.  
  
Jiyong grips the base of Seunghyun's cock and pulls down slowly. Tight. He watches the way his face reddens. The flush travels down Seunghyun's neck and beneath his shirt. He stirs, a heavy weight in his hand.  
  
Jiyong rubs his thumb along the head of Seunghyun's cock, back and forth and watches his face change. His eyelashes flutter. His eyebrows soften. He bites his lip. Seunghyun pulls him closer and it's almost the wrong angle but Jiyong manages to move, his fingers hooked around his hardening cock.  
  
Jiyong strokes him slowly until Seunghyun is hard, his thighs parted, hips moving in tiny motions away from the wall. Jiyong wonders if Seunghyun thought about this when he picked out his outfit, when he slid on these sweatpants without anything underneath. It's easy to touch him this way. Even if someone comes into the alley, it won't be hard to pull his hand out. It won't be hard for Seunghyun to close his coat and pretend this never happened.  
  
Traffic calls out from the street a few metres away but Jiyong ignores it. He hears stranger’s voices around the corner, still collecting by the door of the bar. He wonders if Seunghyun hears them too. He tightens his grip and moves faster. With each stroke, he hears clothes rustle between them. Something about the sound is heady, forbidden. It reminds him of where they are and what he's doing.  
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
He presses his forehead against Seunghyun's chest. It feels right. Natural. He isn't surprised when Seunghyun's arms close around him. He can feel Seunghyun trembling. He can hear the way his breath escapes his nose and mouth at the same time in short gasps. It's beautiful. He feels childish and embarrassed for thinking so at all, but Seunghyun is beautiful. Every movement, every sound.  
  
He shivers from the cold and Seunghyun holds him tighter. Jiyong kisses his chest in gratitude for the shared warmth, his hand quickening again. He gives a cruel little twist, running his thumbnail across the sensitive tip and Seunghyun's head hits the wall. His thighs part another inch involuntarily.  
  
Seunghyun is warm and heavy in his hand. Jiyong is so focussed on that, on the way he feels that he doesn't notice Seunghyun guiding his face until his lips are on him and he is craning his neck to taste more of him, to nip at Seunghyun lips, to swallow every gasp and sharp exhale when his fingers tighten around his cock. Once their mouths are on each other, he won't let them separate. Jiyong kisses Seunghyun through every jerk and shake and silent moan. He swallows them up. His stomach tightens with every shuddering little breath against his cheek. With every taste of Seunghyun's tongue and every hint of teeth.  
  
Jiyong jerks him off quickly and silently, the wet slick of his hand becoming audible alongside the rustle of clothing. He closes his eyes. He lets the sound of his hand pulling on Seunghyun's cock mix with the sound of the street and unfamiliar voices. He revels in the heat of their bodies and the way Seunghyun shakes and tenses until he cums quickly, with a silent jerk, into his hand.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't make a sound. His hand tightens in Jiyong's hair and that's all. When he cums, his body bows forward. Jiyong has to hold him up with his own weight, pinning him to the wall with his shoulder. He grips the base of Seunghyun's cock and pulls down slowly. Tight. They ride it out together.   
  
_I love you._  
  
Seunghyun finally makes a sound--- a quiet, sad little noise when Jiyong pulls his hand from his softening cock. He doesn't say anything when Jiyong wipes his hand on his sweatpants.   
  
_They're already wet, what does it matter?_  
  
Neither speaks.  
  
Jiyong keeps his eyes below shoulder height, suddenly impossibly cold.  
  
He wonders what either of them can say.

 


	24. Chapter 24

_  
  
_

As quickly as they fell into each other, they pull away, breathing hard, not quite looking each other in the face. Jiyong's phone rings and they both know who's calling. It makes it easier for Jiyong to turn away, to answer the call facing the street where he can't see Seunghyun's face and vice versa. With their backs to each other, it's easier to pretend his jeans aren't tighter, that his lips aren't swollen, that it wasn't so _easy_ and gratifying to do the wrong thing.  
  
When he answers, he can taste Seunghyun on his tongue.  
  
Hyeong-bae's voice is absent from the call. All Jiyong hears are the same noises from inside. Gut wrenching, choking coughs coming down the line. His stomach twists with guilt and worry when all Hyeong-bae can manage at last is a weak, ' _come home'._ When Jiyong ends the call, he spares a look back at Seunghyun but avoids his face.  
  
'I have to go'.

  
  
  
  
*

  
  
  
  
He finds Hyeong-bae at home on the bathroom floor which rouses unpleasant memories. Curled up with his cheek against the tiles, Hyeong-bae is a shimmering ball of sweat, his brow furrowed in discomfort. Jiyong sinks to his knees without thinking. His fingers fold through Hyeong-bae’s hair. He is filled with panic and worry but at the same time distancing himself. Bathroom floors have bad associations. He can see himself in the tiles, turning blue.  
  
'Fuck, are you alright? What's going on?'  
  
_'It's hot'._  
  
'You said you felt better?' Jiyong answers hurriedly. 'I wouldn't have gone anywhere if you were still this sick. What happened? You were _better?'  
_  
'I lied'.  
  
Jiyong calls an all-night Doctor. He doesn't know what else to do. With one hand on Hyeong-bae's hair and forehead, he holds the phone with the other. He tries not to break contact.  
  
_'I don't know. He wouldn't see a Doctor? Two weeks maybe? A cough in his chest. Yeah. He has a fever. He's like 1000 degrees. He's lying on the bathroom floor. What do I do? An hour? What do I do until then?'_  
  
With Hyeong-bae's refusal to go to the hospital, Jiyong has no choice but to wait for the Doctor. He spends an hour on his knees in the bathroom replacing cold washers from Hyeong-bae's face because he refuses to get up. He is weak and tired. It seems impossible that a few hours can make such a difference. Jiyong should have called back. The moment Hyeong-bae's first call cut out, he should have called him back. He shouldn't have allowed himself to become so _distracted._  
  
Between runs to the freezer for fresh ice and cold compresses, Jiyong scrubs his hands raw. When he wipes the sweat from Hyeong-bae's forehead, he feels guilt like a festering wound.  
  
His boyfriend needed help and he wasn't around; he was across town with his hand on Seunghyun’s dick. Repaying the way he saved his life a year earlier by failing to help him through a simple chest infection. He gave up and went out because he was tired. He was tired of Hyeong-bae being sick and needy so he drank and gravitated towards Seunghyun because it was easy and it felt nice.  
  
He should be focussed 100% now on Hyeong-bae and what he needs but Jiyong still hears that quiet voice in the back of his head that hasn't yet left the bar. _I shouldn't have done that. Nothing can happen between us._ Hyeong-bae coughs and Jiyong runs a gentle thumb across his arm. _It felt so good to touch him though. To have his fingers in my hair. To rest my face against his chest._  
  
'How was your night?' Hyeong-bae mumbles.  
  
'It was ok'.  
  
When the Doctor arrives, Jiyong is careful not to explain Hyeong-bae's presence. To draw attention to a man living in his house isn't something he needs to do. Let the Doctor draw his own conclusions. It's obvious when Jiyong meets him at the door that he is recognised. Jiyong's stomach sinks, envisioning a slew of articles about a man living in his apartment.  
  
The Doctor does his job either way. Jiyong helps Hyeong-bae to the bed and watches from the corner as his temperature is taken, his eyes blinded by a little flash-light. He watches the two of them exchange words but can't make them out. He imagines as the Doctors head moves here and there that he's cataloguing the scene around him. It's obvious that two people sleep in the bed, the side-tables disparate with their junk. When Hyeong-bae reaches blindly for the drawer on his side to show the Doctor a supplement he's been taking, any pretence disappears. It's obvious that Hyeong-bae lives here and sleeps in this bed. Equally obvious in pictures around the apartment, the same is true of himself.  
  
Just two guys living together, sleeping in the same bed.  
  
Jiyong has quiet flashbacks to his first real scandal. It was such a silly non-event that left him housebound all the same, afraid to go outdoors in case a gaggle of high-school teens were waiting beyond the elevators to cajole him into suicide.  
  
He remembers the second scandal and the third, the weight of each piling onto the first. He didn't think he'd get through the last one but he did. Seunghyun pulled him through like an owner dragging a cat on a leash. He was ready to fold when the headlines started coming out. _G-Dragon caught in drug scandal._ Sitting there weeks earlier with a cotton swab in his mouth, he thought if the result is positive, I'll die. I'll lose it all.   
  
Things were as he imagined for the most part. The death threats and taunting and loss of business, loss of sales, loss of respect and admiration. The company stood by him but it was of little consolation in the dead of night or during incognito runs to the corner store when people would invariably recognise him and look away, disappointed.  
  
At the end of the day, what mattered was Seunghyun. He moved into the apartment and refused to leave. When Jiyong would fall apart or apologise for destroying the group, for cutting short their promotions and for tainting him by association, Seunghyun would laugh. He would listen to every outpouring of grief but brush it off all the same. In a dozen ways, Seunghyun told him daily, _'you'll be okay. I promise'._  
  
A scandal arising from his suspect living arrangement would be worse, he knows. No kind words, no amount of attention or care or time would fix it. Liking men is a bullet. It doesn't matter that he likes women too, once you like dick it's over. The very first time he kissed Seunghyun and felt something, the gun fired. The bullet lodged in his chest. Waiting, biding its time. When this story hits the news, the bullet will migrate to his heart and he'll die.  
  
In a strange moment of calm, Jiyong feels that's true. When he and Seunghyun were together it was easy to say _let’s risk it_. It was easy to make that choice because the risks were infinitesimal, so far away; the happiness by contrast so current and real. His younger self thought if the worst happened, they might weather it together. Being who they were, plausible deniability was always a withheld card they could play. _We're not involved, we're just close. You know how idols are._  
  
Hyeong-bae changes things.  
  
Jiyong leans against the dresser of the far wall, detached. He thinks. If this decision was the wrong one, if this Doctor says or implies the wrong thing when he leaves here, my life will be over. I will lose everything. I won't be able to weather it.  
  
For a moment he closes his eyes and feels an arm around his waist, a low voice in his ear. He can almost smell Seunghyun the way he was in the alley, when he buried his face in his shirt. Jiyong conjures a ghost.  
  
_'It's alright. Take a breath. You'll be okay. I promise'._  
  
He allows a facsimile of Seunghyun to calm him down.   
  
  


  
* * *  


 

With a heavy course of antibiotics, Hyeong-bae recovers quickly. Finally. He stops coughing germs into every corner of the house. His chest infection finally passes. He goes back to work. Their lives un-pause. Jiyong stops spending every waking moment on nursing and spends it instead googling his own name. _G-Dragon_ is mercifully absent from every naver search, every breaking announcement. He doesn't share his fears or concerns with Hyeong-bae. He wouldn't understand, not really. He wouldn't say the right things.

  
  
  
  
*

  
  
  
Jiyong picks up the phone a dozen times to call Seunghyun but can't figure out what to say to him. Seunghyun hasn't made any attempts to contact him either which makes Jiyong feel uncertain. He hesitates. There are so many reasons to call but each is just as much a reason not to.  
  
He finds it hard to reconcile their easy five-year relationship to the rollercoaster from hell their post-Japan situation has become. Every hint of upwards motion is followed by a steep descent. _Of course_ weeks of calm conversation and TV marathons would end the way it did with an awkward hand job in an alley and a fast escape. How else? Honest conversation? Rational decision making?  
  
It would be easier if they didn't love each other. It strikes Jiyong as profoundly cruel and stupid that love can be so much of a burden. He finds himself living all the songs he wrote before things fell apart. At the time, he thought he knew it all. Little fights or confrontations became the yearning, desperate melodies he made the others sing. He knows now, he was misguided. His lyrics were insincere. If he sang the same songs now would they seem more genuine?  
  
_[If you’re struggling like I am  
Can’t we make things a little easier?]_  
  
Seunghyun drank. Somewhere in the drunken haze of that night, he found a way to get drunk without anyone noticing. A decade of skill lending itself to subversive alcoholism. Seunghyun could sit in a glass box before an audience of thousands and still find ways to drink without anyone seeing.  
  
Was that night a one-off or is he off the wagon completely? What made him do it? What happened? Jiyong wonders if he's to blame. He drank because of Seunghyun or the feelings he inspired. Maybe the heartache travelled both ways. He remembers Seunghyun's face in the alley and the words coming out of his mouth, _can't we both be stupid? Just for a minute?_ \--- Seunghyun wanted it too. He followed him outside for a reason. He kissed him. He didn't resist when Jiyong touched him. If anything, he folded. He crumpled and fell apart beneath his touch.  
  
Mutually assured destruction.  
  
There are a dozen reasons they can't be together but the pull remains. Jiyong risked everything for a few moments with him and while alcohol is a convenient excuse it isn't honest. The desire was in him before he drank the first shot. What happened in the alley wasn't because of heavy drinking in the bar but everything that precipitated it. Every moment spent together over the preceding weeks are what did it. Every moment Seunghyun was missing overseas. Every second of the happy five years before that.  
  
On a Tuesday afternoon, Hyeong-bae kisses Jiyong by the bathroom door, his health restored. He smiles and turns away, and in that moment, watching his back retreat down the hallway Jiyong realises he doesn't just love Seunghyun the way he hoped, he is _in love_ with him. In the same moment he knows no part of him has ever been in love with Hyeong-bae. He fell for him slowly, naturally, habitually. He grew used to him and his company and affection. There was never a period where passion and need and pain tore at his insides. He loves him. He is not _in love_ with him.  
  
It's not great timing but it is what it is. A quiet realisation.  
  
It makes it harder to pick up the phone and apologise to Seunghyun for what happened. It makes it harder because all the convenient excuses no longer apply. He can't blame residual feelings, the understandable slip-ups that sometimes happen after a break-up. He can't blame the alcohol. What can he say?  
  
_I'm still in love with you and I wanted to do it._  
  


 

**II**  


 

 

On a Friday afternoon, Jiyong finds himself sitting opposite John Lee, internationally renowned director. John. Jae Han. Seunghyun's friend and confidante. The man who saved his life in Japan. Qualifications Jiyong can't forget.  
  
Ducking down a busy street to pick something up, he was startled by a sudden hand around his bicep. His confusion wasn't stymied when he realised who it was that had stopped him. In all the years of friendship that existed between he and Seunghyun, Jiyong barely knew John Lee. Only from one or two face-to-face meetings and stories Seunghyun sometimes relayed. He had seen him in interviews during _Into the Fire_ promotions and spoken to him for thirty seconds backstage at one of their concerts. He took a photo in a club one night. That was the breadth of their relationship.   
  
Despite that, Jiyong agreed to the proffered coffee John suggested, _'so we can talk'._ In his gut, he knew they only had one thing to talk about, one mutual friend in common. It seemed John had something particular to say. He wouldn't have stopped him in the street if he hadn't, they barely knew each other.

  
  
  
*   
  


  
As John lights a cigarette in the back of the mostly empty cafe, Jiyong thinks detachedly, _those arms saved Seunghyun's life._ What was it Seunghyun said? He fell asleep at last in a nice warm bath and woke up on the tiles beside it. John saved his life. That makes it hard for Jiyong to speak, too keenly aware of the debt he owes him. He wants to thank him but that would mean acknowledging what happened and his role in it.  
  
It turns out he doesn't need to worry about keeping Seunghyun's privacy. John takes a drag of his cigarette, his wrist elegantly resting on the curve of the table. He gets to the point.  
  
'I want to talk to you about Seunghyun,' he says.  
  
'What about Seunghyun exactly?'  
  
'Your relationship'.  
  
Jiyong tenses and an automatic smile curves his lips, his nonchalant shrug and easy manner folding around him like a shield. Feign ignorance. Deny.  
  
'What do you mean?’  
  
John smiles, sympathetic and flicks ash into the ashtray between them. He leans back in his seat like a CEO, secure in his position. Jiyong wonders suddenly if they ran into each other by accident or if John actively sought him out.  
  
'I mean your _relation_ ship. Seunghyun told me everything a long time ago'.  
  
Jiyong's smile falters and his answer sounds weak, even to his own ears.  
  
'What exactly did he tell you?'  
  
'You dated for years. You loved each other'.  
  
A short biting laugh escapes Jiyong's lips and he sinks back in his chair, shell shocked. It's blatantly obvious by Johns tone of voice and the look on his face this isn't a hazarded guess. This isn't a trap designed to oust a secret. He knows. Jiyong doesn't have to ask how _much_ he knows or if he understands what it really meant for he and Seunghyun to date. He knows all of it, down to their living arrangement and what happened in the bedroom. Seunghyun told him everything.  
  
'He told you,' Jiyong answers. 'He _outed_ me?'  
  
'He needed someone to talk to'.  
  
Jiyong presses his hand to his forehead, concealing his face. He lets the chill of his fingers calm the rising heat in his face. He laughs quietly. Will there ever be a time he isn't blind-sided by Seunghyun? He doesn't even have to be present any more.  
  
'Are you okay with talking to me? _'_ John asks. He suddenly looks gentle and hesitant and Jiyong wants to laugh, anger roiling up from the depths. His fingers shake so he pulls a cigarette from his pocket for something to hold on to.  
  
'Why not?' he says. 'I trust you'.  
  
'You do?'  
  
'Seunghyun did,' Jiyong answers. 'He trusted you enough to tell you about us. Enough to risk my career and my life so he could have a chat. I couldn't tell anyone when _I_ needed help or a friendly face but Seunghyun can do what he wants, I suppose. The rules have never applied to him'.  
  
'That's not really fair'.  
  
'I can tell you a lot of things that have happened recently that aren't _fair'._  
  
John nods plaintively and takes a drag of his cigarette.  
  
'Well. I appreciate you sitting down all the same'.  
  
Jiyong waves a hand in obeisance but doesn't speak. If John Lee wants to talk, he can do the bulk of it himself. Knowing all their secrets, Jiyong hardly needs to be here. John can have this conversation for the two of them.  
  
'He loves you,' John says, alluding to their mutual friend. 'Still'.  
  
'I know,' Jiyong answers quietly, tiredly, wondering just how much Seunghyun _can_ love him. Under threat of torture he would have never told a soul about their relationship. He would have never put Seunghyun at risk. Obviously, that understanding wasn't mutual.  
  
'You know?'  
  
'Of course. He's told me a dozen times,' Jiyong says unemotionally. 'Even if he hadn't, I would still know'.  
  
'So what are you going to do?'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'He loves you,' John says emphatically. 'You love him back. Can't you work things out somehow?'  
  
'What makes you think I love him back?'  
  
'Don't you?'  
  
Jiyong scratches his nose and figures there's no point lying. It might be a relief to say it aloud. To let a third party know the truth as it really is.  
  
'Yes. I love him'.  
  
'So? You love each other. Work it out'.  
  
Jiyong laughs.  
  
'Work it out? You know, that never crossed my mind?' He takes a drag of his cigarette and blows it across the table. John grimaces and waves the smoke from his face.  
  
'Don't be droll'.  
  
'What do you want me to say?' Jiyong answers. 'Or do, even?'  
  
'I want him to be happy'.  
  
Jiyong scoffs, frustrated. He halts the cigarette inches from his lips.  
  
'And I don't? I want him to be _happy_. Of course I do. Here's the problem with your logic. You think he'll be happy if we get back together? That's your answer to his unhappiness? Problem solved? Because we were together when his abundant happiness carried him off to Japan so he could _kill_ himself,' Jiyong whispers. 'I couldn't help him then. I didn't even know he was in trouble. You think I'm the big solution to this problem? He left me. He didn't say a word to me. He just left. He fled the country thinking he wasn't coming back and he thought that was okay. He thought it was okay to say, _'see you tomorrow'_ and disappear in the night and fucking die somewhere without me'.  
  
John swallows and takes a drag of his own cigarette, cradling his head between slender fingers as if to ease a burgeoning headache.  
  
'You know what he's like,' John says. 'He makes choices. He thinks he's doing the right thing'.  
  
'That doesn't make it okay,' Jiyong answers, finally taking a drag. He leans back in his chair and silence grows between them. It's obvious John knows everything from the beginning to the very end. He knows about Seunghyun's sojourn overseas and the way he left things, of course he does. He was there. He saved his life. Jiyong wonders when Seunghyun told him about their relationship. In Japan or before that? Has John been kept apprised of their life every step of the way or only partially? Does he know what's going on now?  
  
'I'm seeing someone,' Jiyong says. 'Should I dump them and dismantle my life so I can be Seunghyun's nurse maid?'  
  
'Don't _say_ that- _\--_ ' John cringes at his choice of words and Jiyong regrets them the moment he speaks. He's just angry. Angry that he is having this conversation, angry that somebody _knows,_ angry that Seunghyun betrayed him, angry that he loves him regardless and that doesn't fix or change anything or make anything easier.  
  
John takes a deep breath and stubs out his cigarette. He changes tack.  
  
'I didn't know you were seeing anybody. Is it serious?'  
  
'Yeah, it is,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'Does he know?'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Seunghyun'.  
  
'He knows'.  
  
Silence grows between them. Jiyong finishes his cigarette and lights another straight after. He can't have this conversation without something in his hands. Something to hide behind and wave around. He watches John whose eyes are somewhere on the floor to the right of him. He looks a little sad suddenly, dismayed maybe. He thought having this conversation might resolve imagined problems.  
  
'Why did you want to speak to me?' Jiyong asks carefully. 'How often do you talk to Seunghyun? You think he's particularly unhappy right now?'  
  
It takes John time to answer but when he does, the tone of his voice makes Jiyong feel a pang of something unwelcome.  
  
'I spoke to him a few days ago. He sounded different. Something happened but he wouldn't say what. He wouldn't talk to me. Whenever I call, he always talks to me. Since then he hasn't answered my calls'.  
  
'You're worried about him?'  
  
'I am'.  
  
Jiyong feels guilt well up from the soles of his feet, rising inch by inch until he can feel it in his throat. Until he's drowning in it. He knew what happened between them was a problem, that it complicated things, but he imagined things were okay--- mostly. He imagined he could fix things once he figured _things_ out.  
  
'Something did happen,' he answers quietly. 'A week or so ago. We ran into each other at a bar. He drank. Something happened between us. We haven't talked since'.  
  
John exhales slowly.  
  
'He drank? You know he's in AA?'  
  
'Of course I know. I didn't realise he drank until it was too late. I was drunk myself, I wasn't paying attention like I should have been'.  
  
'Why were you drinking in front of him in the first place?' John asks, accusatory.  
  
'He came to a _bar,'_ Jiyong defends testily. 'I was already drunk. I'm not responsible for him. It was his choice'.  
  
'And what happened between you?'  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
'Did you sleep together?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'What then?'  
  
'None of your fucking business,' Jiyong whispers angrily. 'You're not my fucking father and you're not his guardian, okay? None of this actually concerns you'.  
  
'I am invested,' John says seriously, 'In that boys _life_. If he's in trouble and I can help, I will'.  
  
'Well you _can't_ help,' Jiyong answers heatedly. 'It's complicated'.  
  
'Try me. What happened?'  
  
Jiyong's fist hits the table between them, causing their cups and saucers to clatter against the table. He is frustrated. He closes the distance between them as much as he can.  
  
'We got drunk,' he says. 'I went outside to answer a call and when I turned around, Seunghyun was there. We talked for a minute and he kissed me. I kissed him back. I missed him. I fucking _missed_ him and I was drunk so I shoved him against a wall and I jerked him off. Then I left. We haven't spoken since. That's what _happened'_.  
  
'You did that while in a relationship with someone else?' John asks, not missing a beat.  
  
Jiyong shrugs. 'Yeah. I guess I'm a bad person'.  
  
John doesn't contradict him and Jiyong feels something fold in his chest. He feels latent insecurities and self-doubt start to gnaw at his insides. John is right to judge him. He makes bad decisions. He breaks people.  
  
'What are you going to do next?'  
  
'I don't know,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'You can't love Seunghyun and this other person as well. How does that work?'  
  
'You don't think you can love two people at once?'  
  
'Not completely'.  
  
'Well I don't love either of them _completely_ , how's that?'  
  
John smiles politely and lights another cigarette, taking his time, letting the silence grow. He doesn't say a word but Jiyong can feel his accusations and recriminations as if they're being screamed in his face, as if he can feel the heat and spit from John's breath against his cheek.  
  
'His name is Hyeong-bae,' Jiyong says quietly, unprompted. He's never spoken about him before. Not to anybody. For all the mentions of him in Seunghyun's presence Jiyong has never used his name. Not once. He's never revealed how they know each other or how they reconnected. 'I knew him as a child. He's a few years older than me. I knew his younger brother. Me and Youngbae used to go to their house to swim in their pool. Around two months after Seunghyun left, I ran into Hyeong-bae at a club. We talked for a while, I guess'.  
  
Jiyong takes a long drag of his cigarette and stares at the ashtray on the table between them.  
  
'I had been drinking a lot since Seunghyun went missing. I was in a bad way. That night was the peak, I guess. I drank too much. I woke up on the bathroom floor. I had trouble breathing. Stuff like that. I remember thinking I was going to die but Hyeong-bae was there. He stuck his fingers down my throat. He saved my life'.  
  
John looks sceptical.  
  
'Maybe.'  
  
Jiyong winces.  
  
'No, he did. Not just that night but for weeks and months after that. He put me back together, he helped me be okay again. Without him I don't know where I would be or if I would be here at all'.  
  
John looks surprised by the last part.  
  
'Look,' Jiyong says quietly. 'Seunghyun leaving _broke_ me. I'll never love anyone the way I love him. Not ever. I don't know how to exist without him. Even when he was gone, my life revolved around him. Him _not being there_ was as much a part of my day as _he_ was when he was home. And when he left? I couldn't tell anybody what happened. I had nowhere to go and no-one to talk to. I couldn't move on for a dozen reasons. It was killing me,' Jiyong says emphatically. 'Hyeong-bae was the only one there for me, the only person I could trust to help me and he did. He's been with me ever since and I love him. I wouldn't know where to begin if he left. I wouldn't know who I was any more'.  
  
'So, what about Seunghyun?' John cuts in. 'Where does Seunghyun fit into this life of yours? If you love this other guy, why are you stringing Seunghyun along?'  
  
'Stringing him along?'  
  
'He told me you were trying to be _friends_ ,' John says. 'He said he didn't think it was working out but you wanted to hold onto it. You seemed reluctant to part ways'.  
  
'Reluctant? I guess you could say I'm _reluctant_ to piss away our fifteen years together'. Jiyong pauses, hesitant. 'He didn't think it was working out? What did he say?'  
  
John takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee for the first time since sitting down.  
  
'He loves you,' he says. 'It's too much to ask of him to spend time with you when you're on such unequal footing. You go home every night to another man and he's left alone. It isn't fair when he feels so strongly for you'.  
  
Jiyong feels a familiar tightness in his throat. A heavy stone.  
  
'It's hard for him,' John continues. 'Put yourself in his position. Imagine how he feels. I didn't know what was wrong with him but it makes sense now, knowing this'.  
  
'It's hard for me _too_ ,' Jiyong answers sharply. He blinks away errant tears. 'You think it's easy for me to spend time with him? Easy to forget? You don't think it affects me?'  
  
'I'm sure it does but at the end of the day, you have someone waiting for you at home. All he has is you. You're not making it easy for him when you kiss him and cross boundaries. You can't do that if you're in a relationship with somebody else. If you're not going to focus on Seunghyun and your relationship with him, you should back off'.  
  
'Back off?'  
  
'Leave him alone. Give him a chance to find his way without you'.  
  
'But I don't _want_ that,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'It shouldn't matter what you want,' John says. 'If you love him, you should do what's best for him, not what's best for you'.  
  
Before Jiyong can really answer or compose himself or get his thoughts together after the verbal disembowelment he's suffered, John is standing up, readying to leave. Jiyong splays a hand out on the table between them.  
  
'Wait—- '  
  
‘I know you mean well,’ John says. ‘You gave Seunghyun a photo album once of photographs you had taken and drawings you had done. Things like that. For White Day? I thought that was very sweet. He showed some of it to me. I was surprised to hear stories about your relationship. It surprised me to know how happy you both were under everyone's noses. It sounded like something special,' he says. 'I know you care about what happens to him, but right now, you are his reason for waking up in the morning. At the best of times, that isn't healthy. He's in a bad place and you're the only good thing in his life. That's what he thinks. Unless you can give him 100% in return, cut him loose. Gently. Prolonging this half-involved attachment won't end well. You'll both get hurt in the end. Him more than you'.  
  
With that, John moves around the table and passes him. The conversation is over because he says so-- it's like that. It doesn't matter, Jiyong hasn't got the will or energy to defend himself. Everything John said was true wasn't it?  
  
Jiyong reaches out again, catching John's wrist at the last moment. When he turns back, Jiyong hesitates. His hand trembles. He feels sick to his stomach but he has to say, just once---  
  
'Thank-you for _saving_ him. In Tokyo I mean-- thank-you for being there'.  


 

  
  
**III**  


  


Jiyong means to visit Seunghyun in person after his encounter with John Lee but finds himself stalling for time. Shutting the door on fifteen years of memories and dependency isn't easy. It isn't what he wants. It seems impossible for something to be _right_ when it feels so devastatingly bad. After fifteen years together, how can shutting that door be the right thing? He's always believed their problems were better dealt with together. Their current circumstances aren't great but it's early days. If they stick together and tough it out, won't things become easier?  
  
He knows now, they love each other despite every attempt not to. Why should he have to stomp all over it because the situation isn’t ideal? Because there are factors that make things complicated? You're supposed to stand by the people you love, even when it's hard.  
  
He loves Hyeong-bae though. He has to stand by him too, all the while contriving reasons to be allowed to love another. There is no best-case scenario. As quickly as he makes a decision or rationalises one choice above another, he changes his mind. Other factors emerge that have to be considered.  
  
Each morning when he opens his eyes he's blissfully content for the half-second it takes to remember what's going on. Then, he backslides right back into the depressive sulking torment he is doomed to suffer until he makes a decision. It's a hard choice between letting Seunghyun go like a wild animal in the forest--- _if he's meant to come back, he will_ versus admitting his feelings and shying away from the man who saved his fucking _life_. There are deep loyalties both ways and while Jiyong wants to consider the right thing in Seunghyun's case, it's hard because he's selfish and the right thing feels bad.  
  
Likewise, any giddy rush at the prospect of he and Seunghyun becoming _something_ again is dampened by the thought of an empty apartment. If Hyeong-bae left, Jiyong would miss him to death. Sure it was fun jerking Seunghyun off but that doesn't mean he wants to stop jerking off his actual boyfriend.  
  
It's complicated.  
  
In rational terms--- Hyeong-bae is available and always present. He has time. Seunghyun is emotionally unavailable at least 50% of the time and he only answers the door/txts/calls in the same scale.  
  
He doesn't want to be alone. With Hyeong-bae, he won't be. With Seunghyun he sometimes will. Isn't that the answer in the end? Choosing to see things in black and white?   
  
  
  


* * *

  


Jiyong dreams of Seunghyun. Not facsimiles of real life or memories dragged from the past. New dreams. Current dreams involving the people they currently are. Seunghyun with his dark cloud. Himself with his own obstacles to navigate. Complicated almost-thirties who can't figure it out.  
  
Those factors which make all the difference in the real world don't seem to matter in his dreams. At night, Seunghyun is vibrant and alive. Everything else is secondary.  
  
They are sex dreams. It's simple. He doesn't need a Freudian class on psychology to understand why he suddenly wakes every night, hot and sweaty; his heart racing. He's on the precipice of making a rational adult decision and all the parts of him bent on _passion_ being his guide are telling him it's the wrong one.  
  
His head knows what to do--- his heart and by proxy, his dick have other things in mind. They fill his head at night with vivid images of Seunghyun, dreams so tactile and honest, Jiyong feels real pleasure. He wakes up hard and aching, desperate for release. The dreams push his buttons and claw at his flesh.   


  
  
*

  
  
  
On the fourth consecutive night of unwanted dreams, Jiyong wakes the usual way. Hot. Sweaty. Exasperated. He drags sticky fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the vestiges of a dream. He shifts uncomfortably. He feels the ghost of Seunghyun's mouth wrapped around his dick.  
  
The vividness of the fantasy embarrasses him. He's torn between wishing it never happened and cursing himself for waking up. He is achingly hard. He tries to readjust his briefs to relieve the discomfort. He has been content for the past few nights to will his erections away but tonight, Hyeong-bae stirs. He slides an arm over his stomach, innocently enough. He does it all the time--- only tonight he dips too low. He brushes Jiyong's groin accidentally and feels what can't be ignored, even only half-awake. It's almost comic how quickly he rouses himself.   
  
In the dark, he slides his hand between Jiyong's thighs and rubs his thumb over his clothed erection. Jiyong makes a quiet sound and flinches. They haven't been together for a while. They've had a weird few months. Some lazy sex in the dead of night would be nice under other circumstances. If it weren't precipitated by thoughts of Seunghyun.  
  
'It's been a while,' Hyeong-bae says quietly, voice hoarse from sleep. 'I've missed this. You should have said something if you were in the mood. I've wanted to touch you for days'.  
  
'I had a dream, that's all'.  
  
'What happened in it?'  
  
Hyeong-bae's palm folds around his straining briefs and Jiyong sighs. It's a welcome shock. His eyes flutter closed and his hips push forward. It feels good to be touched. He is filled with pent up frustration.   
  
'Stuff,' he answers quietly.  
  
Hyeong-bae rolls onto his stomach and uses his new position to kiss Jiyong's arm and the folds of his shirt. Hyeong-bae's hand stays where it is, thumb brushing back and forth over the seam at his crotch. Each faint movement sparks a jolt of pleasure that forces Jiyong's hips to meet him. It's such a faint, dull sensation but he is on fire. The smallest touch sets him alight.  
  
'You looked after me,' Hyeong-bae answers quietly, punctuating each word with a kiss over Jiyong's pyjamas, 'when I was sick. Let me return the favour. What happened in your dream? What do you want me to do? Whatever you want, I'll do it'.  
  
Jiyong means to say _nothing, go to sleep, for fucks sake_. Fledgling waves of guilt are already lapping at his heels. Hyeong-bae's willingness and sincerity make it worse. Instead, when he opens his mouth, Jiyong doesn't recognise himself.  
  
'Blow me,' he pleads. 'I want your mouth on me _'._  
  
Even in the dark he sees the glimmer of surprise on Hyeong-bae's face. It isn't the sort of thing he _does._ He's not a big talker in the bedroom let alone an asker. He prefers the subtle hints and sounds to outright directions. Today though?  
  
'Under the blankets,' he adds quietly, shameless. 'I want you to stay under. I don't want to feel the cold on my legs'.  
  
It's a selfish and duplicitous request. He wants Hyeong-bae under the blankets so he won't see him. It will make it easier to imagine he's somebody else. Jiyong has to know if it will make a difference to imagine Seunghyun, if he can even do it, if his conscience will allow it. Suddenly, he feels like this is the only way to alleviate his dreams. To just--- get on with it.  
  
Hyeong-bae acquiesces and in short order disappears beneath the blankets, becoming a featureless shape beneath the duvet. Jiyong raises his hips as his briefs are tugged down and in moments, warm wet lips surround him.  
  
Hyeong-bae gives a rough suck and hums around him and Jiyong's head hits the pillow in seconds, his hands fisting around the bed head above him. He doesn't close his eyes. He doesn't want to. He wants to watch the blanket move and imagine. He wants to pretend Seunghyun is in the room, not just a figment in his dreams.  
  
He feels guilty but the physical sensations override his morals and his rationale tells him there must have been a dozen times or more that Hyeong-bae fucked him while imagining someone else. Couples do that sometimes, it doesn't mean anything. Housewives are allowed to close their eyes and pretend their husbands are Brad Pitt. It's human nature. This isn't a big deal. It isn't a crime to remember the way Seunghyun's eyebrows used to relax when he sucked him off.  
  
Hyeong-bae swallows around him and Jiyong sighs. His knees twitch. He pictures Seunghyun's tight lips. He was always the better of the two when it came to blow jobs. It was a weird thing but Jiyong knew it was true. He was better with his hands, Seunghyun was better with his mouth. Sometimes, he would slide an arm---  
  
'Put your arm under me,' he begs.  
  
Jiyong bends his left leg at the knee and Hyeong-bae follows his instructions. He is pliable and willing when Jiyong folds his knee around his shoulder. The position opens him up. It _feels_ better. Seunghyun used to do it this way. He knew exactly how to do it every time. He could tell what Jiyong needed before he knew it himself; if he needed a rough blow job with his pants still on or a slow, naked exploration.  
  
Jiyong slides a hand beneath the blankets and folds his fingers through Hyeong-bae's hair before guiding him down, encouraging him to take it all. He's done it before, Jiyong knows he can do it. With gentle ministrations Hyeong-bae sucks and swallows until his nose hits trimmed hair. Jiyong's tip grazes the back of his throat.  
  
Jiyong keens at the sensation and the _heat_. His hips roll languidly. His toes curl against Hyeong-bae's side. He fucks up into the warmth of his mouth with choked off sighs.  
  
In the quiet, he can hear the wind outside hitting the windows. It triggers a memory he's happy to relive of a storm cutting the power. Seunghyun was staying over and in this room, on this bed, their phones died together in the dark. They found ways to entertain themselves. That night, with the wind beating against the window, Jiyong fucked Seunghyun for the first time. He remembers that night vividly though he doesn't think about it often. What a shame, he thinks now.  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls back so he can drag his hot tongue from Jiyong's balls to his leaking tip before swallowing him down again, gripping the base of his cock tightly between his fingers. Jiyong's hands fist in the sheets. His stomach tightens.  
  
He remembers the way Seunghyun felt around him that night, how impossibly good it felt to be inside him, to have control, to have permission to take him apart. He remembers how easy it was, how the expected awkwardness and insecurities never really surfaced, weren't ever really there. Seunghyun smiled in the dark as he came and Jiyong followed suit with a sound he'd never made before, drawn out of him like the sounds of caterwauling children at a playground. Instinctive laughter and unselfconscious expression. That sort of thing. Fucking Seunghyun was nice. Easy.  
  
Hyeong-bae sucks hard unexpectedly and Jiyong's whole body shakes involuntarily. It pulls a long, blissful moan from somewhere deep within. He's close. He can feel his orgasm building. Drawing him in.  
  
He tries to pinpoint other memories to lose himself in; other times he and Seunghyun let themselves be free with each other. Out of a thousand possible choices, his mind alights on a specific memory.  
  
The first time they said they loved each other they were sitting in Seunghyun's apartment. They hadn't seen each other for weeks after they both realised in unison, _this is serious._ Jiyong was on the lounge. Seunghyun was in the kitchen. He said I love you and Seunghyun said it back. It was very uneventful.  
  
While Hyeong-bae blows him beneath the duvet and Jiyong squirms, he thinks on a memory two weeks after that. They had just begun a world tour. They were in China. Guangzhou. At some point on the drive back from the venue, Seungri began prattling off facts about China. They weren't tourist brochure factoids, they were mostly interesting things Seungri had learned, the way he always did before they travelled. His last burst of information before they reached the hotel was about homosexuality in China. It was illegal until 1997. Until 2001, It was considered a mental illness.  
  
At the hotel, Jiyong snuck into Seunghyun's room for a goodnight kiss. They hadn't spoken much since their uneventful confessions of love a fortnight earlier. Work took over. They were busy. In Seunghyun's hotel room that night in Guangzhou, they had time.  
  
'Did you know being gay was illegal here in 1997? In 2001 it was still considered a mental illness. On the books. Imagine people thinking we were mentally ill because we like each other'.  
  
'People would still think that now,' Seunghyun smiled, tired.  
  
'Well what do _they_ know?'  
  
By the door, Jiyong kissed Seunghyun to say goodnight but found it hard to let go. For a moment he was swept up in frustration and disappointment once again, that loving Seunghyun was fundamentally disallowed. Anger that he wouldn't ever get to share these feelings outside of vague lyrics to sad love songs. He put all those emotions into that kiss--- into the hands he trailed up the back of Seunghyun's shirt. He was tired and sentimental and still riding the subtle high from the show.  
  
Never making it to the bed, Seunghyun seemed to feel the same way. They pawed at each other like teenagers, tired and fumbling but sweet all the same. Pants were shoved down, shirts were pulled up and Seunghyun jerked them off together, in his hand between them. It was a hurried, silly, risky thing but when he was close, Seunghyun pulled Jiyong in by the neck with his free hand and whispered things in his ear. He whispered the way he felt the first time Jiyong kissed him. The way his chest felt lighter when Jiyong walked into a room.  
  
Stuck between the wall and Seunghyun's body, his orgasm building, Jiyong felt lighter the way Seunghyun said he sometimes did. Hearing those things, more than the physical sensations, are what sent him over the edge. They overwhelmed him. When Seunghyun said, _'I love you. I fucking love you,_ ' Jiyong came prematurely, unable to stop himself.  
  
He remembers that.  
  
In his own apartment, in his bed with Hyeong-bae's wet mouth about to finish him off, Jiyong remembers that one stupid night in a hotel in Guangzhou. He remembers the way he felt, bare assed against a hotel wall, hearing Seunghyun say _I love you_ in between ragged gasps and heaving breaths. Needy. Desperate. Sincere.  
  
More than their very first I love you, the hotel is what Jiyong remembers most. The way he held Seunghyun's face afterwards and pressed their heads together. Just for a moment. Just to breathe. Those were the first _I love you's_ that really mattered. He couldn't say why, they just were.  
  
It's _that_ memory that pulls him to the very edge. Hyeong-bae grips the base of his cock tightly and sucks his cheeks in, drawing Jiyong's orgasm out. His knees curve involuntarily. His hips rise off the mattress. His toes dig into Hyeong-bae's side.  
  
In his head, Seunghyun's fingers are digging roughly into his neck and he is saying in that urgent, desperate way, _'I love you'._ That's when Jiyong lets go, when he cums. He times it perfectly. It's easy. It always was.

 

 

 

**IV**  
  


 

When Jiyong finally rings Seunghyun's doorbell a few days later, he isn't any closer to making a decision. He has no idea what he's going to say about what happened the last time they saw each other, or why he has avoided him ever since. In his defence, the avoidance went both ways. It's defensible to say it was just too awkward to make contact. Too early to go back to _just friends_. Too early to pretend _just friends_ was even working.  
  
When Seunghyun opens the door, Jiyong has to stop himself from showing his surprise. After John Lee's abundant concern, he didn't expect Seunghyun to answer the door in a sharp suit with his hair done. At the same time, he had higher hopes than what he finds.  
  
Seunghyun has bags beneath his eyes, his hair clean but messy. Like waking into a parallel universe, Jiyong sees stubble above his lip and across his chin and jaw. He can count the number of times on one hand Seunghyun has managed that. Maybe it's easier to grow facial hair now that he's older. It shocks him though. It makes Seunghyun look more unkempt than he might have otherwise. Then again--- the sweatpants and loose, crumpled T-shirt combo was never winning an award.  
  
Seunghyun looks devastatingly tired and unhappy. After however many weeks of seeing him smile and laugh, it knocks the wind from Jiyong's sails. He's responsible for this. The choices he made at the bar have messed Seunghyun up. Was John right? Is the better choice to walk away? Will Seunghyun be better off without him?  
  
'Can I come in?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer, he just opens the door wide enough for him to enter. 'Let me guess,' he says tiredly, when they're both inside. 'We need to talk?'  
  
'I suppose so'.  
  
'Then, let me go first,' Seunghyun says, not wasting any time.  
  
Jiyong's stomach turns, apprehensive.  
  
'This isn't working out,' Seunghyun says. 'I love you but I don't want to do this anymore'. He gestures between them and Jiyong understands his meaning. He understands why, at the cafe, John Lee said what he did. Seunghyun has made the decision already for both of them. Jiyong doesn't get a say.  
  
_'This?'_  
  
'You and me,' Seunghyun clarifies. 'Being friends. Spending time together'.  
  
It doesn't matter that moments ago, Jiyong was fortifying himself for this exact conversation, Seunghyun's words devastate him.  
  
'42 days sober,' Seunghyun goes on. 'That's where I was at before I met you at the bar. I got a text during my AA meeting saying you were drinking with friends so I sat and listened to people’s tales of woe and I planned to get drunk too. I bought a bottle of wine after AA and outside the bar drank the whole thing in 10 minutes, sitting in my car'.  
  
Jiyong shifts uncomfortably, a numbness settling over him.  
  
'I did that because I thought--- If I was drunk and you were too, maybe something might happen between us. Sober, you wouldn't allow it. I knew that. The first time was enough. I know how much you regretted us sleeping together. I remember the look on your face and every word you said to me after. But drunk? On the heels of all our friend dates? Maybe I had made an impression. Maybe something---'  
  
Seunghyun cuts himself off. It takes time for him to draw himself together.  
  
'That's messed up,' he admits finally. 'I know it. So do you'.  
  
'How many days sober are you now?'  
  
_'Three'._  
  
Jiyong reels.   
  
'This is too hard,' Seunghyun explains with frank honesty. 'I thought I could settle for being your friend. We were friends for years before we became anything else so it should have been easy but it wasn't. It hasn't been. The last few weeks have been a nightmare. _Just friends_ is asking too much of me. It's asking me to forget about a lot of history and I can't do it,' he says strongly. 'I know our relationship is over but I _want_ things. I want you. Things like what happened at the bar make this _impossible._ It's fucked up. That whole night was something I contrived because I missed you. I can't live like that, pining for those moments when you're drunk enough to slip up'.  
  
_'But---'_  
  
Jiyong doesn't know why he protests. His brain is telling him to accept this. In the long run it's better for both of them. It has to be or it wouldn't be two against one. Regardless, parts of him cry out in rebellion.  
  
'We both knew this wouldn't work,' Seunghyun persists. 'Deep down you _knew'._  
  
'Maybe,' Jiyong admits. 'I didn't know what else to do. What was I supposed to do? Kiss fifteen years goodbye? _Just friends_ was easier. _Just friends_ was an option'.  
  
'It was never an option,' Seunghyun smiles.  
  
'It bought us _time'._  
  
Hearing Seunghyun talk so casually about parting ways, Jiyong starts to panic. Rationale starts to wane. He starts to really imagine a life without him. No more shared jokes and foolish games. No more conversations at night on the balcony. No more passion. No more love. No more enduring history--- just--- _history._  
  
He moves to the lounge and sits down, pulling a cigarette from Seunghyun's pack on the table. If he's going to endure this break up he needs something to hold on to. On the precipice of saying goodbye, old memories tug at his clothes. He lights his cigarette and drops Seunghyun's lighter on the coffee table. His eyes gloss over the books and magazines beneath the glass tabletop.  
  
'My photo album,' he says, recognising the half-covered book. The same one John mentioned at the cafe. It's almost as old as Seunghyun's tenure in the apartment. He can barely remember what went into it. It was a hurried gift, childish but sentimental.  
  
Seunghyun joins him on the lounge and pulls it out, propping the album on his lap. Dredging up the past seems like a morbid way of spending their last moments together as friends but Jiyong doesn't stop him. Instead, he takes a drag of his cigarette and watches the pages slowly turn. Photographs of himself are intermingled with pictures of friends and architecture. Places he found on tours or weekend jaunts alone. There are a few selfies of the two of them together.  
  
Seunghyun stops on a particular page and taps a glued-in sheet of paper. A page torn from a notebook.  
  
'This is my favourite page,' he says, fingers moving over each word. 'Do you remember writing this? It was a long time ago. At this point I think we'd only kissed a few times. Maybe some handsy over-the-clothes stuff. It was early days'.  
  
Jiyong turns to face him.  
  
'The counsellor that used to talk with us and the trainees,’ Seunghyun says. ‘She asked us to go home and write letters to ourselves. Do you remember? We had to write letters to ourselves as kids and teenagers and letters to our future selves. It was stupid. You did it though. You enjoyed it'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, grim.  
  
'One of your letters to yourself was mostly about me,' Seunghyun smiles, smug. 'Then a couple of years later you stuck it in this album with the rest of this dumb stuff I love'.  
  
'What does it say?' Jiyong asks. 'I don't remember'.  
  
'Well, it's long,' Seunghyun says. 'But I'll read you my favourite part. I think you were Twenty-one. Writing to yourself at eighteen. It's all very serious---

 

  
“ _Some time soon, on a Tuesday around two in the morning, you're going to find Seunghyun alone in the basement, practising. Earlier in the day, the teacher humiliated him in front of everyone. You know how often that happens. When you find him this time, instead of watching through the window in the door like I did, you should go in and help. Teach him that move he's struggling with or he's never going to get it. Be patient with him.  
  
You two should do more with each other. Smoke more, even though it's bad for you. Drink more, even though you fight when you do. You and Seunghyun have everything in common. You like the same songs, you make the same mistakes, you have the same dreams. When you touch him and he shrinks away, don't take it personally. He won't always be like that. _  
  
_You're still eighteen. Things are only just starting to happen for you. Your hard work is finally paying off but you're tired and stressed and scared about the future. If you ever have a minute--- pull Seunghyun aside and kiss him. I know how that sounds but trust me, in a couple of years when you're a little older, there won't be enough hours in the day to kiss him. I know you like girls right now but eventually you like Seunghyun the same way.  
  
You probably know that now, though you haven't quite figured it out yet. You know you sometimes look at him a little too long, that things he says stick with you. If he says something biting it feels like he's hit you. When he says something nice, you feel lighter. Sometimes he touches the small of your back and you pull away though you want to do the opposite. You like to share cigarettes because it makes you feel closer to him. There are a lot of things you're doing now that you won't understand for years but you like him and he likes you back, right now, at eighteen. _

 

Seunghyun clears his throat, voice growing hoarser with each sentence. Jiyong finds himself staring at the knee of his pants. It's easier. This isn't how he wants to say goodbye. It would be easier to fight and slam a door. Reliving this is agony.  


  
_The next few years will be the best of your life. You'll be the happiest you have ever been, even stressed and tired and regretful. Your whole life is ahead of you. Anything can happen. You have a good career ahead of you. Keep working hard. I believe we'll do well as long as we work hard. I'll ask my future self in the next letter if we made it big. If we lasted. I hope so.  
  
In the meantime, kiss Seunghyun. Don't wait until you're twenty-one. There are big rewards, trust me. Without doing much at all, he'll help you a lot. You have hard times coming. With him around, they won't seem so bad. You will never stop laughing together. He will be honest with you too, even when you don't want it, even when it hurts. Eventually, you'll stop hating him for that”_

  
  
Seunghyun pauses, voice wavering. Jiyong sees a shine in his eyes. The hard swallow at his throat. When he finishes the letter, Seunghyun's voice is quieter. Less stable.

  
_“Most importantly, he'll inspire you. The best songs you are going to write will be about him and for him. If you're lucky, one day he might return the favour”._

 

Seunghyun clears his throat and tries to discretely clear his eyes with his knuckle. Jiyong watches him, shell shocked. It's confronting to hear his own words spoken in Seunghyun's voice. To hear his old thoughts and feelings brought to life. He was so young and stupid and naïve at twenty-one and yet he pegged Seunghyun right. Even then at the start he had faith in him and who they were as a team.   
  
At eighteen he and Seunghyun were co-dependent. Jiyong remembers the intensity of their friendship. They shared jokes no-one else could be a part of. They often slept in the same bed. They never thought it was strange to hold each other at night if it was cold. When Seunghyun would go somewhere without him or talk about other friends, Jiyong would get so jealous they wouldn't speak for a week. It was like living that high-school experience he never got to have. Teenage passion. Hormones. It never felt strange to him that instead of funnelling those feelings and dependencies into his revolving door of girlfriends, he seemed to save them for Seunghyun.  
  
Jiyong puts his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and slumps down against the cushions. He wonders what he'd write to his younger self now. How would he steer himself away from this heartache? He wonders if impassioned warnings would make a difference. Part of him knows the answer.  
  
'We can't see each other anymore,' Seunghyun says gently. 'Things are different now. We can't pretend any more that things are going to be okay with us because they're not. Thinking we can be friends is naive. All we have now are these crazy moments that fuck things up. We've run our course. It's time to call it'.  
  
'You're wrong,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'We're not a couple. We're not friends. What are we?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs. 'Do you love me?'  
  
'You know I do'.  
  
'So that's what we are,' Jiyong answers. 'We're two people who love each other, in a difficult situation'.  
  
Seunghyun looks particularly pained to hear this.  
  
'Are you surprised that I _love_ you?' Jiyong asks. 'Obviously I love you. I've said that a dozen times since you came back. I'm usually yelling or crying when I say it but I love you. Of course I love you. What happened at the bar wasn't a drunken accident. I _missed_ you. Tiny love hearts were floating around my head all night just from being near you. I touched your hand on the table and went to heaven. I could have thrown my whole life away to share that moment with you. One moment that _meant_ something. I'll always feel that way about you'.  
  
'So what?' Seunghyun asks grudgingly.  
  
'So doesn't that _matter?'_ Jiyong answers. 'I don't believe we only exist in the _past._ I know the last few weeks have been hard but it's worth it. I would suffer like this for a thousand years if it meant I could be a part of your life. Don't you feel that way? Your friend John told me to leave you alone. He said it was the best thing for you and I believed him at the time. I think I came here today ready to give you the same speech you're giving me but I don't want this. This isn't _right_ '.  
  
Seunghyun shifts uncomfortably.  
  
'John told you to leave me alone?'  
  
'We had coffee a few days ago. He was worried about you. He said a lot of things that made sense at the time but hearing you say the same things? No. I don't _want_ this. We just need time. We deserve more time. We've come too far to end things because it's _hard'._  
  
Seunghyun sighs, cradling his head in his hand.  
  
'Seunghyun, we have so much history. I remember every second of our time together. Don’t you?’ Jiyong asks. ‘A few days after I met you, you sat down with me for lunch. My friends thought you were weird. They went quiet when you joined us. Do you remember?' he says. 'I was the only one who talked to you. You were embarrassed because my friends didn't want you around. You wanted to leave but I kept talking so you stayed. Right before class went back, you told a joke and I laughed so hard that coke shot out of my nose. My eyes watered for the rest of the day. It fucking hurt'.  
  
Seunghyun's eyes close but he doesn't answer.  
  
'When we were trainees your mother changed her mind about you being in the company. She cried and cried for days, trying to change your mind,' Jiyong says. 'You came to practise late one day and the teacher yelled at you. In front of all of us, he told you you were useless. He said you wouldn't amount to anything because you were lazy and lacked discipline. You didn't say anything back. When practise was over and everyone else was gone, you told me you were quitting. You said your mother wanted you to get a real job. You didn't want to disappoint her. But, you came back the next day. You made the decision for yourself--- but I never told you what I did that night. I never told you that when I left practise, I called Yang on the phone. I talked to him for an hour about what you said. I told him he had to do whatever it took to change your mothers mind. I told him I didn't want to be in the group without you. I spent hours writing letters to your mother. I planned twenty different ways that I could change her mind. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make you stay. I'm glad I didn't have to'.  
  
Seunghyun looks out from behind his hand. He looks grim and weary.  
  
'Why are you saying all of this?'  
  
'I don't know,' Jiyong answers sadly. ‘Do you think those moments are all we have left? You don't think we can experience new things together? You don't think we can make new memories? Last time I saw you it felt like we still had a future'.  
  
Seunghyun says nothing, leaving Jiyong to interpret the look on his face and his movements instead. His eyes close and he seems to disappear inside himself.  
  
'You really want this?' Jiyong asks. 'Things are hard right now so you want out?'  
  
Seunghyun shuts the album on his lap. Jiyong watches it disappear into the cavity within the coffee table. Tokens of love and shared interests. Investments in the future. Put away.  
  
'I'm sure. Even more now that you've said what you have'.  
  
'But why?' Jiyong asks. 'If you love me, why do you want me to go away?'  
  
_'Because_ I love you,' Seunghyun answers pained. 'Because you're moving on and I'm not and our relationship has nowhere to go. We loved each other too much and for too long to settle for being _friends_. This experiment isn't going to work. It's already _not_ working. What happened at the bar sealed the deal. Saying goodbye is inevitable. If we don't, we'll both go crazy. _I'll_ go crazy'.  
  
'I'm moving on?' Jiyong laughs. 'You don't think I feel things? You don't think I cry sometimes from how much I want you? I'm not a block of ice, I _feel_ it.  I'm moving on? No. I moved on and then you _came back._ I don't know what I'm doing right now but it's not _moving on._ I wasn't moving on at the bar when I was kissing you or jerking you off. I wasn’t moving on when I fucked you!’  
  
'It doesn't matter'.  
  
Seunghyun reaches for his cigarettes and Jiyong lowers his eyes in frustration. Never, in the constant tug-of-war between them has he ever been this close to losing him. Worse somehow than almost losing him to Tokyo, Seunghyun is making a conscious decision to excise himself from their shared life. He looks completely serious. In a moment of charity, Seunghyun turns to face him. With a lit cigarette between his lips, he talks around it. He tries to explain.  
  
'Jiyong,' he says, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth. 'I love you. I want to be _allowed_. I want to touch you and talk to you. I want to make you laugh and keep you safe. I want to wake up in the morning beside you. All these stories from our past? I want that. I want to be those people we used to be'.  
  
Jiyong tries to speak but Seunghyun shushes him.  
  
'But we're not,' he says. 'Seeing you all the time knowing those things aren't possible is a nightmare. Worse is thinking maybe they _are_ possible. If I hold on long enough, maybe every now and then we'll be in the right place at the right time'.  
  
'Like the alley,' Jiyong says.  
  
'Like the alley,' Seunghyun affirms. 'What that told me was, I can love you and you can love me and it won't matter. At the end of the day you'll still be dating somebody else and we'll both quietly pretend I wasn't there. I don't want to live like that'.  
  
For a moment Jiyong recalls John Lee's words in the cafe. _It's too much to ask of him to spend time with you when you're on such unequal footing. You go home every night to another man and he's left alone._  
  
In that moment, Jiyong feels terrible. He understands Seunghyun completely. He understands the difficulty in being where he is--- but it's short lived.  
  
'You're punishing me'.  
  
'I'm not _punishing_ you'.  
  
'Yes you are. You _left_ me. You left and I needed help and a friend and intimacy, so I found someone. You're punishing me because I got a boyfriend while you were off trying to fucking kill yourself'.  
  
'No, I'm not'.  
  
'What was I supposed to do,' Jiyong asks, 'when you came back? Was I supposed to throw everything else away? Am I supposed to do it now? Should I dump him so I can touch you? So I can kiss you every once in a while? So I can talk to you without feeling like I'm doing the wrong thing?'  
  
'I never asked you to throw anything away,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'But you're _making_ me'.  
  
'How?'  
  
'By _doing_ this,' Jiyong answers. 'By saying everything you just said to me. If we can't be together, we can't be anything? If you can't fuck me, you don't want me?'  
  
Seunghyun protests. 'That's not what I'm saying'.  
  
'What do you want,' Jiyong asks, 'In a perfect world? You want to date me? You can't. You only indulge me a few days a week as it is. The rest of the time you're unreachable. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. When you feel up to it. You want to love me, touch me, talk to me? For how many days a week?'  
  
Hearing this, Seunghyun's gaze falters. For a moment he looks at the ground, cowed by Jiyong's relentless onslaught.  
  
'You think those moments when we're _'in the right place at the right time'_ are unfair? You didn't think so until now. You liked it just fine when you fucked me two months ago. You liked it well enough when I was jerking you off. You said yourself you followed me outside that night hoping to kiss me. It's okay for you but not for me? You'll kiss me knowing I have a boyfriend and I'm an asshole for not dumping him?'  
  
Seunghyun sighs pointedly but doesn't answer.  
  
'I'm sorry,' Jiyong says facetiously. 'I'm sorry that I haven't figured all this out yet. This is still new to me. I don't know how to _do_ this, okay. There's no manual for what to do when the love of your life leaves you and stomps on your heart, then comes back the second you find happiness with somebody else. If I was supposed to throw away that relationship the second you came back, I'm sorry. If I'm making the wrong choices, I'm _sorry._ A few weeks ago we weren't even speaking. You don't think this is progress? We're not where you want to be so _GAME OVER?'_ he says. 'I love my boyfriend. I do. I want him around. He loves me. He's always there for me. We have a good thing going. It's easy'.  
  
Seunghyun swallows hard.  
  
'But here you are,' Jiyong says. 'I love you. The past year and a half hasn't changed that. When I haven't seen you in a couple of days and you open that door I still get this feeling,' he gestures towards his stomach, 'like I'm nervous. I feel eighteen again. I've known you forever and I still get that feeling. I still blush when you make me laugh,' he says, touching his cheek.  
  
Seunghyun's shoulders slump.  
  
'So what do I do?' Jiyong asks. 'Do I dump my dependable boyfriend who I love so you and I can be together for the few hours a week that you actually want company? Is that what you want? Am I supposed to do that? Is that what this ultimatum is? Is this the only way I can avoid losing you?' Jiyong asks. 'Tell me _'._  
  
'There's no ultimatum,' Seunghyun answers emotionally. 'I want out. I'm not punishing you. This isn't about you, it's for me. I don't want you to throw anything away. I'm just tired of this. I want a life outside of missing you and being miserable. I don't know how to fix either with you around. I'm doing this for me. If you love me like you say, you'll do this for me'.  
  
Jiyong laughs, upset.  
  
'You're cutting me out of your life so you can feel better about me not being in your life? You'll miss me less when I'm gone? You don't think it's better to work through this? I'm right here telling you I love you and feel the same way as you do and that doesn't mean anything? Your answer is still to get rid of me?'  
  
Seunghyun lunges forward, frustrated.  
  
'Will you stop? I'm not trying to get _rid_ of you, I'm trying to do the right thing. Let me do the right thing. How can you not see this is _better_ for you?'  
  
'Living without you isn't _better_ for me,' Jiyong snaps. 'Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. Stop living in your fucking pity party misery town for five fucking minutes and realise this is hard for me too. How do you think I feel _?_ It's hard for _you_ because you love me and can't have me 24/7? Boo-fucking-hoo. I love you Seunghyun but I made a commitment to somebody else. Do you think it's easy to realise I love _you_ while I'm trying to do right by him? Do you think it's easy to think about you every time he says he loves me? When he asks me how my day was and I've been here, I have to lie because the guilt would eat me up inside and we're not even doing anything,' Jiyong laughs. 'Up until the bar all we did was talk to each other but that was enough for me to feel guilty'.  
  
Seunghyun's jaw tightens and Jiyong goes on.  
  
'And now it's worse, you know? Because I cheated. _Again_. I made you cum and I liked it. I loved that. I can't pretend I didn't. A few days ago I had a sex dream about you. I asked him to suck me off beneath the duvet where I couldn't see him so I could pretend he was you. When I came, I was thinking about you and some stupid night a hundred years ago in Guangzhou when you told me you loved me,' Jiyong gasps, breathless from talking too fast. 'And that feels terrible. I feel _terrible_ for sitting here begging you not to leave me but I'm doing it. I feel terrible all the fucking time but I'm still here and that should _matter_ to you _'._  
  
'It doesn't _change_ anything,' Seunghyun answers angrily. 'Did you tell your boyfriend you touched my dick? That I fucked you two months ago? That you spend all this time at my house? Does he know where you are right now? Does he know that you love me?'  
  
Jiyong pales. 'No'.  
  
'What would he do if he knew?'  
  
'He would leave me'.  
  
'Do you _want_ that?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Seunghyun's arms rise in revelation.  
  
'So why the fuck are you here?' he asks. 'You know this will keep happening if you stay. _Just friends_ or not, we will always do this. I will always take advantage to encourage it. You will always give in to me. What sort of relationship do you have with this guy? You want a future full of indiscretions? I don't want be the mistake you keep making and you don't want to fuck up your relationship. This is easy'.  
  
'No, it's not'.  
  
'Jiyong, I'm telling you right now that I'll encourage you to slip up again. If you keep knocking on my door we will hover around each other like _flies,'_ Seunghyun says. ' _Forever._ We both read that letter ten minutes ago. What's changed since you were twenty-one? Nothing. I love you. You love me. I half expect to fuck you on your wedding day,' he says. 'I'll tell your pregnant fiance she looks beautiful then I'll duck into your room, adjust your tie and _fuck_ you. Why? Because I love you and I'll want to. You'll say no and resist but the second I kiss you, you'll kiss me back. You'll beg for it'.  
  
Jiyong reels.  
  
‘What about your kids birthday party?' Seunghyun goes on. ' The wife will ask you to get something from the garage and I'll slip in behind you. It won't matter that you've been married for five years and your life is perfect. The second I touch you, you'll fold. You'll let me do whatever I want. You'll have to keep your voice down though, twenty feet from a barrage of kids screaming and popping balloons. We don't want your waddling son to walk in while daddy is getting fucked against the car'.  
  
'What is _wrong_ with you?'  
  
'Think about what happened in that alley,' Seunghyun says, ignoring him. 'If I wasn't so shocked by your little manoeuvre, I might have done something. It was pretty dark that night. We were shielded from the street. If I'd turned you around and yanked your jeans down your ass, would you have stopped me?'  
  
Jiyong flushes, embarrassed.  
  
'I'm asking you honestly,' Seunghyun says. 'I believe you love your boyfriend but that night, you weren't with him. You were with me. You shot me looks all night so I followed you outside in the hopes I could steal a kiss and look what happened. If I wanted to fuck you that night, would you have let me? Would you have wanted it?'  
  
Jiyong trembles from sheer frustration but doesn't answer.  
  
Seunghyun answers the silence by bridging the distance between them on the lounge. He digs a knee into the seat and grabs Jiyong's thigh before he knows what's happening. In surprise, Jiyong falls back against the armrest until Seunghyun is flush against him, his hand moving over his jeans until warm fingers dip below the waistband. Seunghyun tugs on his jeans gently, not trying to pull them anywhere just making a point.   
  
'Would you have enjoyed it?' he asks quietly, looking Jiyong in the eye.  
  
Jiyong doesn't aim for the nose like he wants, he shoots lower. He throws his fist into Seunghyun's stomach who lets him go instantly and careens back to the other end of the lounge to catch his breath. Jiyong stands up, teeming with anger.  
  
'Yes, you smug asshole. I would have let you fuck me, and maybe you're right. Maybe if I get married, you'll fuck me on my wedding day. Maybe you'll fuck me at my sons fifth birthday party. Maybe when we're old and soft I'll take viagra just for you because you're my _special friend_. So what?'  
  
'So don't be so fucking _stupid_ ,' Seunghyun wheezes, holding his stomach loosely. 'Why are you making this so hard? Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. There is nothing I wouldn't do for those moments. If I could get you to throw away your entire life with that _guy_ to spend five minutes with me, I would. I would risk your marriage to touch you. I would crash a birthday party to fuck you. I would sacrifice your happiness for my own. I would do that. I would fuck up your entire life if it meant I could be happy for five fucking minutes'.  
  
For a moment, Jiyong forgets how to breathe.  
  
'I was trying to be rational and diplomatic about this but you aren't _listenin_ g to me,' Seunghyun continues, frustrated. 'Outside of a relationship, you and I don't work. There are too many feelings involved. It's seven years too late to be _friends._ This arrangement is painful for me. It sucks for you too. You want a life with your mystery boyfriend, go have it. That should be reason enough for you to accept our parting ways,' he says. 'But if it's not I'll speak plainly. I am _miserable,'_ he enunciates. _'_ Why shouldn't I get something? Why can't I have the one thing that makes me feel good? I'm tired of doing the right thing. I'm tired of staying away from you. I _want_ you. I want to fuck you. I want to touch you the way you _want_ me to touch you--- but you're seeing someone. You're seeing someone and you love them so what the fuck are you doing here? Are you trying to torture me? You can't be with me but you can jerk me off sometimes under special circumstances? No. We're parting ways. We just are. If we don't, I will rip apart your life trying to make mine better and I don't want to do that. I don't want to fuck up your life, okay? Just let me fucking do this. Let me shut the door and end this before all those hypotheticals happen, okay? Before I crash your wedding and your kids birthday party and god knows how many other moments of your life because I couldn't let go of you'.  
  
Jiyong's face contorts in complete misery. His heart is pounding so hard and fast, he clutches his chest in affected pain.  
  
'I don't want to be a sad, desperate old man,' Seunghyun says emotionally, following him to his feet. 'I don't want to follow you around for the rest of my life, sniffing around for that one moment when you're vulnerable enough to make a mistake with me. I don't want that. I want to keep all my happy memories. If I let us go down that path of being constantly drawn together, making these _mistakes?_ All the bullshit and lies and guilt will wash those good memories away. I'll ruin your life and I'll become sad and jaded doing it. You wanted to know if we have a future together? We do. Of course we do. It's just miserable'.  
  
Jiyong stares wide-eyed from four feet away, unable to grasp a mind that could do this--- that could constantly take Seunghyun to that worst-case scenario and lock it in. This is where he went after the bar? He went to this place where the two of them are destined to be miserable and unhappy forever and ever?  
  
'That's what you think our future will be?' Jiyong asks sadly. 'You've always been a pessimist but that's some next level shit'.  
  
'Tell me I'm wrong'.  
  
'You are'.  
  
Jiyong moves closer and Seunghyun takes a step back. It's impossible not to see it.  
  
'A lot has happened to us,' Jiyong says quietly. 'A lot of unthinkable things and we're different now. We're not the people we were two years ago. Of course this is hard. It's going to take time to work this out. We just need time, Seunghyun. I need more than a few weeks and a dozen play dates to make hard decisions about my future. So do you. It should be enough that we're here saying _I love you_ to each other. We're on the same page, we just need time,' he says. 'I understand how you can feel this way but I'm telling you, it's not that bleak. Whatever happens between us--- that's not me slipping up and then ditching you for my cosy other life. It's just complicated right now. It won't always be like this. I won't spend the next ten years going on 'errands,' so I can fuck you without my family knowing. I mean, Jesus. _Seunghyun'._  
  
'You are doing it _right now_ '.  
  
'Am I?' Jiyong throws his arms in the air in frustration, amazed at how far he's travelled to wind up in the same place. 'Well, if I'm doing it right now, I might as well get something out of it,' he says, shrugging off his jacket. He doesn't know what else to do. 'If me fighting for our fifteen-year relationship is the same as getting fucked at my wedding, we might as well fuck. This is all we're good for apparently'.  
  
He throws his jacket at Seunghyun's face. The sleeves unravel over his shoulder.  
  
'Stop it'.  
  
'Why?' Jiyong asks, undoing the buckle of his belt. 'This is your fucking fantasy, Seunghyun. Not mine. I'm just a body designed to tempt you. I'm not a person'. He slides his belt through the loops and lets it drop to the ground. 'All I am is a lifelong reminder that you don't get to fuck me full time'.  
  
He takes his watch off and lets it fall to the ground.  
  
'I mean if I _did_ want a full-time arrangement again in the future, I guess it wouldn't matter because you haven't listened to a word I've said. You just want me to fuck off so you can live your sad fucking pity party over here'.  
  
Jiyong turns his back to Seunghyun, pulling his shirt up over his head. He lets it drop to the ground. He shivers at the sudden cold.  
  
'Who cares that I love you. I don't get a say in what happens to us. And you know—- you're right. The bar was a mistake. I'm sorry that I let myself be happy for five minutes. I should have known that fucked up moment we shared would get me banished from your fucking life _forever'._ He starts to unbutton his jeans.  
  
He unzips and tugs his jeans halfway down his ass.  
  
'I'm sorry that in the _one month_ we've been speaking again, I haven't done whatever I was supposed to do to make you happy. That was stupid of me. I didn't realise there was a clock running down'.  
  
Before he pulls his jeans down further, he takes his socks off one at a time, balancing on each foot.  
  
'I'm sorry that realising I'm still in love with you doesn't change the fact that I still have feelings for somebody else. I'm sorry one doesn't automatically cancel out the other'.  
  
Before he can go on, Seunghyun presses against his back, covering his hands firmly with his own. He stops the passive aggressive striptease and pulls Jiyong's jeans back up. He doesn't say anything. Jiyong closes his eyes. Little huffs of warm air graze the back of his neck.   
  
It must feel bad to be in Seunghyun position. It must be hard to experience little pockets of happiness only to have them taken away, only to have them be conditional or spaced apart but _fifteen years_. There isn't anything they can't work through _eventually_. Jiyong forgets that sometimes. He only seems to remember when something threatens to separate them, but he knows it. He doesn't know how but this situation will end and when it does, the two of them will still be here. Together. One way or another.  
  
He sighs when Seunghyun's hands release him but he hasn't got time to dwell on it. He barely has a second before Seunghyun catches his shoulders and turns him around, arms folding around him in a tight hug.  
  
He's surprised at first. It takes him time to realise what's happening but once he does, he hugs Seunghyun back. He clings to the back of his T-shirt and squeezes him so tightly it's a wonder he can breathe. Forget kissing and fucking and hands down pants, they haven't hugged in a long long time. Jiyong can't remember the last time he felt this. Even with _everything_ on the line, it is devastatingly nice to hold him.  
  
Seunghyun bows his head and buries his nose in his hair, breathing him in. Jiyong wonders what he smells like. He knows what _Seunghyun_ smells like. That masculine sort of smell he has with a touch of lavender or sandalwood depending on what day it is. Maybe Seunghyun has the same catalogue of smells. Maybe he's checking to see if anything has changed.  
  
Jiyong allows Seunghyun to tilt his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. He looks jaded and tired and Jiyong feels sorry for refusing him. Sorry for not letting him go. For trapping him in this relationship he is fighting to escape. Seunghyun's thumb brushes across his bottom lip and Jiyong lets out a fluttering breath in surprise because it isn't the action of someone who _wants_ to escape. Seunghyun doesn't remove his hand so Jiyong kisses the pad of his thumb, unthinking.   
  
A look passes over Seunghyun's face that he recognises instantly. It surprises him but he doesn't question it. He lets the kiss happen. His lips part instinctively and they meet in the middle. Seunghyun keeps the kiss shallow. He breathes warmly against him, pressing little pecks against his open mouth. It's shy and slow and sweet the way their tongues barely graze but the innocence doesn't last. Jiyong's grabs the front of Seunghyun's rumpled T-shirt and pulls him in closer.  
  
Whatever this is, he wants it to last. Seunghyun's lips are warm and soft and sweet and there isn't anywhere he would rather be. He huffs warm air against Seunghyun's cheek so he doesn't have to pull away for one second.  
  
The kiss deepens and Jiyong holds on. Seunghyun's hands travel up his naked side and he shivers at the unexpected touch against bare skin. His body starts to warm and his neck hurts from the angle but Seunghyun makes a quiet sound, a sort of growl into his mouth and Jiyong is ready to forgo comfort for all eternity to stay here.  
  
He misses him. He wants this. It doesn't matter that he's dating someone else. These moments with Seunghyun aren't mistakes. They're important. They strip him bare and revitalise him. These are the only moments in his life he feels entirely free.  
  
Seunghyun breaks the kiss but Jiyong holds onto him.  
  
'If you tell me that was a goodbye kiss,' he threatens. ‘If you tell me to get out---'  
  
Seunghyun's head drops. His warm mouth travels down Jiyong's jaw to bite gently down in the crook between neck and shoulder. Jiyong forgets his admonishments and weak threats. He flinches at each bite but softens when Seunghyun seals each with a flick of his tongue. He cranes his neck to give him more access.  
  
'I want you to get out,' Seunghyun answers, kissing down over a fresh bite. 'But you obviously won't. I can tell you I hate you and it won't matter. You won't leave me alone'.  
  
He sounds frustrated. Jiyong feels the shift in Seunghyun's touch and hands. Jiyong suddenly knows he's won the battle. Seunghyun won't ask him to walk away from their life but he's angry about it all the same. He's being sucked into the same cycle of forbidden moments he wanted to extricate himself from.  
  
'You don't hate me,' Jiyong answers when Seunghyun pulls back.  
  
'I do today,' he says earnestly.  
  
Before Jiyong can process the look on his face or the way he said what he did, Seunghyun's hands are on the back of his thighs and he's saying _up._ Like a show dog, Jiyong does what he's told. He wraps his arms around Seunghyun's neck without thinking and lets Seunghyun haul him up by the ass. He wraps his legs around him and lets Seunghyun walk them a few feet to the wall-- his spine colliding with it uncomfortably, but maybe that was the point.  
  
Seunghyun is frustrated but Jiyong is inclined to let him do what he wants. The past half hour has been an emotional ride. Besides, being manhandled makes heat pool in his groin. He tries not to make the wrong sound when Seunghyun kisses his bare chest but he does anyway. His head hits the wall. If this is how Seunghyun wants to exorcise his frustration, he's welcome to it.  
  
Seunghyun's teeth graze one of his nipples and Jiyong sighs, surprised to feel lust fanning outward from ground zero. Nipples are boring. Decorative. But the way Seunghyun bites him and sucks on him and zeros in on this one suddenly sensitive place--- Jiyong feels he may have wasted a decade of sexual encounters by not asking everyone he slept with to have at it. He risks losing his balance to bury a hand in Seunghyun's hair.  
  
'If you hate me, what are you doing?'  
  
Seunghyun kisses his chest above his heart and pulls him back off the wall. His lips are swollen and red and Jiyong wants to kiss them. He drags his fingernails over the back of Seunghyun's scalp instead, relishing the way his eyelids flutter closed.  
  
'I'm going to fuck you,' Seunghyun answers roughly, fingers digging into Jiyong's thighs. 'And I'm going to leave _marks_ on you. And you can go home and explain them to your boyfriend because this is the life you want'.  
  
Jiyong is about to protest but he decides not to. On some level they need to do this. He'll only be able to reach Seunghyun when he's vulnerable and this is the perfect chance. Let him get out all the frustrations of being in such close proximity for weeks. Let him exorcise his anger and hurt at the world because this isn't just about their relationship. Seunghyun is tired of battling his demons. He's angry that he drank. He's sick of being miserable and he's scared to be in love when the stakes are so high-- when it's possible he won't come out on top. He is afraid that his future is nothing but a string of stolen moments with somebody who'll only love him on the weekends.  
  
Today, he panicked. He tried to cut his losses to protect himself and Jiyong understands but he can't _let_ him. Seunghyun is scared and tired. He needs to know that everything will be alright in the end and Jiyong can do that for him. He just has to wait for the right moment. Until then, it won't matter what he says. Seunghyun won't listen. Sex is a way in.  
  
'Fine,' Jiyong answers, taunting. 'Go ahead. _Fuck_ me'.  
  
He tugs sharply on Seunghyun's hair and bristles at the low noise he makes in answer. Seunghyun lowers him down until his feet hit the carpet then Jiyong is forcibly spun around. He finds himself shoved against the wall roughly, cheek flat against the cool surface while Seunghyun grabs him from behind. Seunghyun presses flush against him and Jiyong's lips part in surprise.   
  
Seunghyun rolls his hips, purposeful thrusts so Jiyong can _feel_ him. So he can feel his dick through their clothing, rutting against his ass.  
  
'This is what I would have done at the bar,' Seunghyun says roughly into his shoulder. 'Just like this. I would have had you in the dark'. He yanks Jiyong's jeans halfway down his ass--- enough for him to feel the sudden cold against his skin. _'Just like this'._  
  
Jiyong inhales sharply, trying not to let his arousal show. He isn't wholly successful because moments later, Seunghyun asks if he would have _liked_ it and he answers.  
  
_'Yes'._  
  
It's humiliating and sad but he _would_ have. Seunghyun talks into his ear from behind, voice lowered to a whisper. He paints the scene so clearly Jiyong can close his eyes and imagine the wall beneath his face is made of brick instead of plaster.  
  
'--- You would have liked that. So exposed. Every time a voice drew nearer you would have made that desperate sound you like to make. You would have moved like this,' Seunghyun says, tugging Jiyong's hips back to snap against his crotch, 'to make sure I didn't stop because danger _excites_ you. Then I would have fucked you harder'.  
  
Jiyong exhales sharply through his nose and his fingers curl against the wall.  
  
'I would have fucked you until you couldn't keep quiet. Then I would have covered your mouth,' Seunghyun says, folding his hand around the lower half of Jiyong's face, 'just like this. I would have fucked you until your eyes rolled back in your head'.  
  
He pauses for a moment to trail his tongue over the ridge of Jiyong's ear and for a second, life imitates art. Jiyong's eyes roll back, exhaling little huffs of warm air against Seunghyun's hand. His cock strains against his jeans. His own reaction takes him by surprise.  
  
'Or until someone caught us,' Seunghyun continues, 'but you would have liked that. You like to think people are _watching_ you. You would have feigned ignorance and put on a show. You would have shown them how much you love it when I'm _inside_ you'.  
  
Seunghyun bucks his hips gently and Jiyong's knee gives out from under him-- just for a moment but it's enough. Seunghyun laughs quietly and Jiyong physically shakes, embarrassed. He lets out a long, ragged exhale when Seunghyun removes the hand from his mouth.   
  
'Are you going to fuck me or _play_ with me?'  
  
'I was going to do both but if you're not interested---' Seunghyun answers.  
  
He pulls Jiyong roughly away from the wall and pulls his jeans up over his ass, nudging him towards the centre of the room. Jiyong blindly walks, letting Seunghyun guide him.  
  
'Where are we _going?'_  
  
He looks back and cops an eyeful of Seunghyun's chest. His arms are stretched high above his head, tugging off a crumpled white T-shirt. Ashamedly, it takes 0.2 seconds for Jiyong's cock to stir. The way he drunkenly pointed out Seunghyun's chest at the bar, he can't look away now. His eyes trail over broad shoulders, over his chest and arms; the outline of his muscles showing through his beautiful dark skin.  
  
There is definition and bulk to Seunghyun's body, more than there was the last time he saw it, when Seunghyun was still thin and _wan._ His chest is smooth and beautiful and Jiyong wants to kiss every inch of it. He wants to breathe warm, wet desires into his skin.  
  
'I haven't decided yet,' Seunghyun answers, tossing his shirt on the couch, oblivious.  
  
When they reach the dining room table, Seunghyun grabs him and pulls him back. He taps the Zitan wood from China and says, 'we'll stop here'.  
  
'At the _table?'_  
  
Seunghyun clutches Jiyong's shoulders and turns him around until he's facing the table. He pulls out a chair and moves it aside then nudges Jiyong into the space it vacated. He taps the inside of Jiyong's feet with his own to part his legs and takes a step back.  
  
'Looks good to me,' he says.  
  
Jiyong closes his legs. He thinks about protesting his treatment of being posed like a barbie doll but he doesn't actually want to. Seunghyun wants to fuck him against this gaudy, patterned table from China or wherever he went on his last solo holiday before everything fell apart. Fine. Jiyong wants to know what that feels like.  
  
He and Seunghyun almost always fucked in a bed. Foreplay happened everywhere but sex was a very traditional under the blankets kind of affair most of the time. They've never done this before. Seunghyun hasn't been like this before, so lost and frustrated. This feels like a very offbeat way of acting out but Jiyong is willing to see it through.   
  
'Fine,' he says.  
  
Seunghyun looks hesitant for a moment as if wondering whether or not he's taking this too far. Jiyong leans back against the table and tugs his jeans down an inch. Seunghyun's eyes fall to the undone buttons.  
  
_It's okay._  
  
Seunghyun seems to understand Jiyong's unspoken reassurance because his hesitation disappears. He points to the table and says, _'don't move'_. For a time he disappears to get the usual necessities, leaving Jiyong where he is, chained by oath to the dining room table.   
  
Awaiting Seunghyun's return, Jiyong looks at where most of his clothes fell earlier onto the floor. For a moment he feels guilt hammering inside his skull. When he left his apartment to come here, Hyeong-bae was napping on the couch. Jiyong watched him for a while and real affection bloomed in his chest. It seems disingenuous now that two hours later he's half naked, waiting for Seunghyun to come back with a condom and some lube.  
  
He just spent a nightmarish half hour trying to convince Seunghyun of the big bright future ahead of them. Honestly, he isn't sure how they’ll get there. Things will come to a head one way or another and force his hand. Maybe that's how it happens. He'll wait for the inevitable explosion and see what's left in the rubble for him to salvage.  
  
For a brief second, he wonders if he's doing to Seunghyun what he did to Hyeong-bae all those months ago. When he first kissed Hyeong-bae in the kitchen and let him believe they had a future together when in his mind, he reeled against it. He lied to save himself because he was afraid to be alone. Has he done that again? Is he forcing Seunghyun to stay in a doomed relationship because he'll miss him too much if he leaves?  
  
Seunghyun reappears and Jiyong _looks_ at him again. Really looks at him and the way he moves and the way the afternoon light coming through the windows creates shadows across his skin. _He is perfect---_ It is deeply unfair that this is only the second time he's truly _seen_ him in eighteen months.   
  
Seunghyun gives him a similar look and crosses the room in mere seconds. Their lips meet again and it's different from earlier, different this time because they really _want_ it. Jiyong finally has access to Seunghyun's chest and he takes advantage. He runs his palms over Seunghyun's pecs, across his nipples and down his bare stomach, following the soft line of hair down the centre. It's intoxicating.   
  
Jiyong breaks their kiss only to plant his lips on Seunghyun's chest. He mouths a kiss over Seunghyun's heart. It is blissful to be allowed, even for a moment. While he works his way across Seunghyun's front, his hands move around his back. He works hard circles into the muscle between Seunghyun's shoulder blades. He is a mass of tension and uncomfortable knots. When Jiyong searches his face he finds Seunghyun's eyes closed and his brow furrowed, body listing slightly with the firmness of his touch.   
  
Suddenly, Jiyong wants to take care of him. He wants to drag him to bed and spend a lazy hour removing every trace of misery and worry from his body. He wants to dig his knuckles into Seunghyun's back the way he used to after concerts because Seunghyun had the body of an old man and refused to let the masseuse _touch_ him. Jiyong learned by observation watching the others get massaged, how to find those hard places and relieve them. He became Seunghyun's personal masseuse and relished the intimacy it provided.  
  
He wants to do that for him again.  
  
Seunghyun, sensing he's being watched, opens his eyes, embarrassed. He spins Jiyong around so he can't look at him. Warm palms slide along his shoulder blades leaving over-sensitive skin in their wake. Seunghyun's hands travel to the base of his spine. The way he did for him briefly, Seunghyun returns the favour until Jiyong's muscles feel loose and rubbery.  
  
It's obvious to him that Seunghyun wanted this to be rough and fast and unromantic. He wanted to _fuck_ him to exorcise his frustration and insecurities but kisses over the heart and certain gestures can't be suppressed entirely. As if reading his mind, Seunghyun seems to remember his original intent. Jiyong is startled by a rough tug against his jeans. Seunghyun yanks them halfway down his thighs in one quick motion.   
  
'Take your pants off'.  
  
Jiyong stares at the dark tabletop and does what he's told. He shimmies out of his too-tight jeans and his briefs follow. He kicks them under the table to get them out of the way. Behind him, he hears a quiet sound. A little huff of air--- then Seunghyun's hand is tracing the curve of his ass, grabbing him gently before letting go.  
  
Then, seemingly all of a sudden, things happen.  
  
'Bend over and rest your elbows on the table'.  
  
Jiyong follows Seunghyun's instructions, albeit reluctantly. It embarrasses him to bend over like this. It embarrasses him more when Seunghyun knocks his feet with his own.  
  
'Spread your legs'.  
  
Jiyong exhales through his nose and closes his eyes. He feels, at last, like Seunghyun is getting what he wants. A supremely awkward unromantic fuck. He hears the cap of the lube Seunghyun fished from his pocket and he sighs. He wants this anyway Seunghyun wants it to happen but a part of him is disappointed. Part of him wanted more from their first fuck post mutual _I love you's_. This seems like a waste. They could be in bed taking their time with each other, enjoying the total frankness of their earlier conversation. Jiyong put it all out there. For the first time, there are no misunderstandings or secrets to cloud their time together but here they are anyway sharing an impersonal fuck over a table.  
  
Jiyong lets himself imagine this is happening another way. He meditates on the feel of Seunghyun's scratchy jaw beneath his fingertips as he draws him in slowly for a passionate kiss. It's a comforting thought.  
  
Instead a frigid, wet finger slides between his cheeks without warning. He hisses from the cold but tries to relax all the same. Seunghyun's finger circles a few times and then, without as much as a warning, slides past the ring of muscle, down to the second joint. Jiyong curses quietly. It's uncomfortable and tight. In his fantasy, they didn't skip the foreplay.  
  
He grabs his cock between his legs. He is only half hard. He strokes himself, trying to relax enough to make this comfortable at least. This is the first time in their long history that Seunghyun hasn't been cautious or considerate. It makes all this seem a little less new and exciting.  
  
Seunghyun draws his finger out and pushes back in with little motions, coaxing. Jiyong tenses around him. The physical gestures are the same as they always were. Seunghyun's fingers are warm and long and he knows the right places inside him to reach for but---  
  
'Relax'.  
  
'Fucking _wait,'_ Jiyong answers, breathless.  
  
He forces himself to block Seunghyun out. He closes his eyes and seeks out better memories like the hotel at Guangzhou or the celebratory sex they had to commemorate Seunghyun nabbing an Anish Kapoor for a steal. Slowly, he begins to relax.  
  
Seunghyun becomes more gentle. Slower. He crooks a finger in just the right way and Jiyong's hips move back against him. The more Jiyong retreats into his memories, the nicer and easier it becomes. He feels the good sensations rouse themselves. That half-tickle, half-pleasure blooming inside him in tiny waves.  
  
When he's ready, Seunghyun adds a second finger and coaxes longer and better sensations out of him. In his head he is watching Seunghyun sleep in a hotel in Singapore. He looks like a statue, the light falling over him in such a way it's as if God himself parted the clouds to frame him. Bernini couldn't have made him better.  
  
Current Seunghyun dashes his fantasy.  
  
'Did you wax your ass?' he asks.  
  
'I have a regular appointment that I sometimes actually go to'.  
  
Seunghyun snorts a quiet laugh and Jiyong finds himself tensing involuntarily. He doesn't want to fuck Seunghyun like this. Last time was bad enough; physically pleasurable but emotionally void. He doesn't like it. He shouldn't have to _imagine_ past instances of nice, comfortable sex. They should be having it. This was fun at first but not anymore. Practise is different from theory. They are too old to be this rigid with each other.  
  
'Ready?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
Jiyong tenses again. He was so focussed on his thoughts he didn't notice the loss of Seunghyun's fingers. He doesn't feel ready but Seunghyun wouldn't have asked if he didn't feel he could physically take him.  
  
'Just do it,' Jiyong answers tiredly, splaying a hand on the tabletop. He keeps the other on his cock, tugging loosely to stay hard. He hears the sound of rustling clothes behind him. Seunghyun is finally yanking his pants down. _He's not even going to take them off?_ The crackle of the condom follows.  
  
When he feels Seunghyun's cock run down the crease between his cheeks, Jiyong holds his breath. He holds it when a hand clamps down over his hip. He holds it when Seunghyun finds his place and slowly eases into him. It's easy enough. His body is willing, it's just his mind with reservations.  
  
When Seunghyun is fully inside him, Jiyong keeps his breath held. His mind zeroes in on the impossible stretch and familiar heat and that one brief flicker of pain before his body starts to relax. It hasn't been a _long_ time but a few weeks is enough to surprise him at first. A few weeks is long enough to forget just what it's _like_ when the first budding warmth begins to radiate through the body.  
  
Seunghyun holds his hips and fucks him slowly as if making up for the rapid prep. It isn't until he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly that Jiyong releases his long-held breath, head spinning from a lack of air. The hard thrust lights a spark and Jiyong's head falls back. Sensations begin to build and this stops being an uncomfortable moment and devolves into sheer physical sensation.  
  
It isn't a dream fuck in a comfortable bed but it is _natural_. It is perfect the way Seunghyun fits inside him just the way he is supposed to. If Seunghyun ever needed proof they were meant to be together, it is in these moments when they fuck and Seunghyun fills him so completely it is sheer _bliss_.  
  
Fucking Hyeong-bae is nice. He has a big dick and he's heavy and Jiyong gets off on the total sum of all their parts coming together. Seunghyun is something else. It isn't just five years of learning each other’s quirks and sensitive places. The very first time they fucked, Jiyong felt it. The world narrowed.  
  
It narrows now. Seunghyun groans quietly and his grip tightens. He fucks him hard like he obviously wants to, shooting little huffs of warm air against his back. Jiyong lets go of his dick and splays both hands on the tabletop for stability. It feels good. _Seunghyun_ feels good. Maybe it's wrong to miss somebodies dick but in this moment Jiyong feels sorry for himself and the eighteen months he didn't get to have this. He's sorry they opted out of foreplay because he suddenly wants to _thank_ Seunghyun. He wants to wrap wet lips around his cock and swallow him down until his knees go out from under him.  
  
Seunghyun finds his sweet spot in short order and Jiyong sighs helplessly, throwing an arm back to cover Seunghyun's hand as he fucks into that one perfect spot. Jiyong thinks about the drunken night he blew Seunghyun in his car in the underground car park of his building. He remembers the way Seunghyun sounded that night when he came, a low gutteral sound he was incapable of stifling. Just hearing it made Jiyong hard.  
  
Seunghyun becomes quietly vocal now as the pleasure slowly builds. Little grunts and then longer ones, louder ones. Jiyong clenches around him, bearing down and Seunghyun huffs a little exhale in surprise. If this wasn't such a weird strange impersonal fuck, Seunghyun would be talking. He likes to do that. Jiyong finds he misses it. He doesn't like to do it himself but on special occasions Seunghyun's lengthy spiels about his perfect ass and how good he feels _inside_ is sometimes enough to make him join in.  
  
Forgetting his earlier embarrassment, Jiyong pushes up onto his toes and lays his chest against the tabletop, lifting his hips to give Seunghyun a better angle. Suddenly, pleasure hits him from all sides. It washes over him and every inch of his skin in heady waves until he is _vibrating_. His hands curl against the tabletop and he whispers heated praise into the varnish.  
  
One of Seunghyun's hands leaves his hips to trail slowly down his spine and Jiyong keens, mewling incoherently at the way it feels. He pushes back into Seunghyun the way he said he would have in the alley. He pushes back to meet each thrust and sounds are drawn from his body whether he _wants_ them drawn or not.  
  
Seunghyun's thrusts and motions become stilted and fast and Jiyong groans inwardly that this might end so quickly. He wants this to last. Within moments, Seunghyun stills. Completely. It's so sudden Jiyong wonders if he came already.  
  
Seunghyun wraps a hand around his waist and pulls him back so they're almost flush against each other. Jiyong gasps at the borderline painful drag it creates inside him. Before he can ask _what the fuck--_ Seunghyun is planting a gentle kiss at the top of his spine. It's more intimate than what's going on a little further down.  
  
'I love you,' Seunghyun whispers. 'I _love_ you'.  
  
After everything, these three quiet words knock the wind out of him. Jiyong covers Seunghyun's hand with his own. Their fingers intertwine against his stomach. Seunghyun talks hurriedly into the back of his neck, rolling his hips with painful slowness.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he grunts. 'I miss you. I hate that you're with somebody else. I know that's my fault. I'm just frustrated. You're mine. You've been mine since the first day we met. I don't know how to _do_ this'.  
  
Seunghyun kisses the crook between neck and shoulder and Jiyong goes weak at the knees like a schoolgirl after a first good kiss.  
  
'I don't want to walk away from you but fuck, it has to be easier than this. Please help me’.  
  
Jiyong releases Seunghyun's hand and pushes him away so he can turn around and face him. He feels a pang of loss when Seunghyun slips out of him but he fills the void. Jiyong catches Seunghyun's jaw and their lips brush together in a slow, deep kiss and several smaller ones. Jiyong breathes little pleas and adorations into Seunghyun's open mouth.  
  
When he pulls back, he holds their foreheads together, his breath hot and damp on Seunghyun's lips.  
  
'I’m so in love with you,' he answers. 'I'll always fucking love you. We'll figure this out. We will. Whatever happens, it's always you and me at the end. Always. Just _love_ me,' Jiyong asks. 'All the other stuff? We'll figure it out'.  
  
Seunghyun plants a soft peck against the side of his mouth and Jiyong rakes his hand through Seunghyun's unruly hair.  
  
'It feels so good to touch you,' Seunghyun whispers. 'It shouldn't have been like this'.  
  
'We're not finished yet,' Jiyong answers. 'We can save it'.  
  
He doesn't suggest the bed because the bedroom might as well be a thousand miles away. If he doesn't get his hands on and over and around Seunghyun in the next ten seconds he'll die. What he _does_ suggest is the couch or the floor so he's not altogether surprised to be dragged onto the ground.  
  
Seunghyun kicks his pants off finally and moves over him on all fours. He nestles between his legs and Jiyong's head rolls back without being touched--- just from the sight and anticipation of Seunghyun fucking him where he can _see_ him. He wants to see his face. He wants to see his parted lips when he says forbidden, naughty things. He wants to see his face relax in that little perfect moment when he cums.  
  
Seunghyun pushes his thighs back and aligns their bodies while balancing on his heels. He plants a tender kiss on both of Jiyong's ankles because he can reach them. Jiyong knocks his foot gently against Seunghyun's head in frustration.  
  
‘No time. I'm too close. Just fuck me'.  
  
With his own shaking fingers, Jiyong guides Seunghyun inside him. He wraps his legs around Seunghyun's waist, pushing against him in one slow, blissful motion until he's all the way inside. They groan in unison, allowing themselves to make noises at last.  
  
‘S _eunghyun'_.  
  
It is heart-rendingly good and nice the way Seunghyun fucks into him slowly and gently but with real _force_ at the end of each thrust as if he can hardly restrain himself. Jiyong locks his ankles behind Seunghyun's waist and draws him in. Little breaths thudding out of him each time.  
  
Seunghyun obliges. He leans down and kisses Jiyong's neck, beneath his ear, along his jaw. His breaths are hot and loud and ragged but in time with each perfect thrust and roll and snap of the hips. Jiyong's world narrows to the movement of Seunghyun's body and the way they fit together, the way every part of them is in perfect harmony all the time.  
  
_'I love you,'_ Seunghyun whispers.  
  
Jiyong rolls his hips in answer, meeting Seunghyun's thrusts whose movements suddenly stutter. He groans quietly and Jiyong clenches around him.  
  
'Does it feel _good?'_ he smiles.  
  
Seunghyun answers by cursing a dozen times and angling deeper. Jiyong finds himself folded further in on himself as Seunghyun creates that better angle, lifting him further off the ground. Now he's hitting the sweet spot every few seconds. Jiyong finds himself scrambling for something to hold on to. He reaches back until he finds the corner of the lounge and digs his fingers in, mumbling with each jolt of pleasure.  
  
Seunghyun swears and bows forward. Jiyong swaps the corner of the couch for his back, raking blunt nails down Seunghyun's spine. It's an awkward fit since he let his flexibility wane but Jiyong does his best when Seunghyun presses their foreheads together. Their lips meet once or twice, warm breathy moments between open mouths both saying the same things-- _fuck, fuck, fuck--_  
  
Jiyong grabs the back of Seunghyun's head and holds him close. Desperate.  
  
'Are you close?'  
  
When Seunghyun nods, Jiyong forces his hand between them and touches himself. He jerks himself off in time with Seunghyun's stunted thrusts until he's so close he can feel every twitch and pulse between them.  
  
Jiyong only let’s go of Seunghyun's neck when he's about to come. Jiyong grips him _hard_ and finds that last perfect angle and then Seunghyun's head is thrown back--- his beautiful neck and jaw straining towards the ceiling. Jiyong feels every second of his release and it pushes him over the edge. With a quiet breath, he tenses and cums, tightening around Seunghyun's cock--- his legs curving tightly against him.  
  


  
*   


  
  
Seunghyun flops tiredly onto the bed, haphazardly cleaned via a damp warm cloth. Jiyong follows him down and nudges his side.  
  
'Roll over'.  
  
'Me?'  
  
'I'm the big spoon'.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his eyes but does as he's told. He wacks the pillow a few times and curls up. Jiyong spares a minute to look at him--- really _look_ at him. He looks the way he used to during afternoon naps. Jiyong always found that endearing and a little sexy. He only sometimes tried to wake him up using underhanded means. Now- with his beautiful bare skin and his budding facial hair, doomed to fail, Seunghyun just looks like Seunghyun.  
  
Jiyong presses against his back the way he used to and plants a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. He throws an arm over Seunghyun's waist and interlocks their fingers. It's naïve and childish maybe, but more than the sex and the drunken fumble, this sends him to heaven. It's been so long since they held each other--- so long since they were able to do this.  
  
'How long until you have to leave?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'I think we've earned a sleepover. I'll pretend i'm pulling an all-nighter at work'.  
  
Seunghyun tries to roll over but Jiyong stops him with a knee in his lower back.  
  
'Look. I want to say something,' Jiyong says. 'It's better if you're facing away from me'.  
  
Seunghyun tenses but Jiyong elbows him for good measure.  
  
'Don't tense up. I just want to say---' he fumbles over his words. 'We haven't really resolved _anything_ except establishing that we fucking love each other. You know that I have to go home at some point and you know someone will be there waiting for me'.  
  
'Kind of hard to forget'.  
  
'Yes,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'I just don't want you to think that nightmare future you thought up is going to _happen_ to us. Doing what we just did, I know it might seem like that's what's going on but it's not,' Jiyong says, holding Seunghyun's hand. 'You said you didn't want to hold out for moments when I was vulnerable enough to make a mistake with you, but you aren't a mistake. Nothing we ever did together could be a mistake. You were right when you said I've been yours since the day we met. I've loved you since I was a teenager’.  
  
Seunghyun scoffs.  
  
'I can't lie here and pretend that I don't like my life at home,' Jiyong says. 'I love that guy Seunghyun, I do. Not the way I love you but it is what it is. I don't know where that relationship is going to go. I doubt it will last forever but it's going to take time either way. I need time to figure this out'.  
  
'Okay,' Seunghyun answers quietly.  
  
'But here's the thing,' Jiyong continues, embarrassed. 'You were right saying _just friends_ wasn't working for us. I can’t just be your friend. I feel less guilty outright telling you _I love you_ than I did trying to pretend I didn't care. I want you. I don't want to pretend sporadic kisses are an accident. I want to kiss you _all the time._ Trying to stay away from you causes more problems than it's worth'.  
  
Seunghyun rolls back just enough for Jiyong to see his profile.  
  
'I want to keep seeing you,’ Jiyong continues. 'Only without the pretending'.  
  
'Are you asking me to be your mistress?'  
  
'I guess. I know it's unfair and you spent all day _fighting me_ to avoid it but it would only be temporary'.  
  
'Probably'.  
  
'Probably'.  
  
Seunghyun sighs loudly and runs a tired hand through his hair. Jiyong refuses to let go of his other hand.  
  
'This sucks'.  
  
'I know'.  
  
Seunghyun groans again and turns his face down into the pillow beneath him.  
  
'Fine'.  
  
'Fine?'  
  
'Yes,' Seunghyun answers, exasperated. 'Apparently I can't last an hour having actual dignity. I suppose you coming to _m_ e for sex is better than sneaking into future birthday parties and wedding receptions to spend time with you'.  
  
'I love you. I'm not just knocking on your door for sex'.  
  
'We both know that's not true'.  
  
Jiyong smacks the back of his head and Seunghyun relaxes somewhat.  
  
'I'm sure this is the worst decision of my life'.  
  
'So take it back,' Jiyong offers.  
  
'Were it so easy'.  
  


 


	25. Chapter 25

  
  
  
'Rose Masterpol'.  
  
'Modern Confession'.  
  
'Portrait of George Dyer Talking?'  
  
'Francis Bacon,' Jiyong answers. 'That one’s easy'.  
  
'Kim Byungkwan?'  
  
'DH001'  
  
'I can't believe you got that one,' Seunghyun answers, fingers tightening around Jiyong's waist. His face is faintly flushed, sweat beading around his hairline. His hair is mussed and his face still unshaven.  
  
'I _know_ things,' Jiyong answers, glib.  
  
_DH001_ looked like Kiko. He doesn't say that aloud. He smiles and bears down. He rolls his hips and enjoys the way Seunghyun's face changes into something unguarded. A moment of bliss. It's the same face he has when he eats ice-cream or is startled which should ruin the sentiment but doesn't. Jiyong cultivates each of Seunghyun's looks and squirrels them away.  
  
His sleep had been dreamless but satisfying. He woke up slowly to a hand between his legs. Heat flared in his groin. Sure fingers pulled gently along his cock. It felt good.  
  
He knew it was Seunghyun the moment he woke up. There was no confusion about where he was. He recognised the touch and reacted to it. Seunghyun's fingers swept over his skin and Jiyong rocked into the ring of his fingers until he was warm and hard and wet all at once.   
  
When Seunghyun kissed him it was blissful. Their teeth were unbrushed and they stank but it didn't matter. Jiyong kissed Seunghyun because he wanted to and because it was nice and because finally, he was _allowed_ to. They kissed for a while, little tentative pecks and soft slow explorations as if rediscovering old passions. All the while Seunghyun touched him, stroking his cock with long, slow and tortuous pulls until Jiyong recoiled from his touch, pulling away to catch his breath (and preserve his stamina).  
  
Like that, Seunghyun said good morning and Jiyong said it back. He rolled into the crook of Seunghyun's arm and took a look around in the dim light. He noticed something new on the far wall. Something he had been too preoccupied to see the night before.  
  
'You got a new painting'.  
  
'I did'.  
  
'I've seen that one before,' Jiyong mused. 'Somewhere. _Motherwell_. A print?'  
  
'It's original,' Seunghyun answered.  
  
'How much?'  
  
'One point two,' he answered. 'How do you know Motherwell?'  
  
Jiyong propped himself up on his elbows.  
  
'One point two _what_?' he enunciated, 'And I _know_ things. I'm not a total dunce of the art world. You don't hold the monopoly on contemporary art knowledge'.  
  
He blushed at the look of wonder that appeared on Seunghyun's face.   
  
'One point two million US dollars,' Seunghyun answered, smiling. 'What other art knowledge are you harbouring exactly?' as if his knowledge of a foreign artist was more interesting or important than the fact Seunghyun spent a million dollars on three strokes of black paint.  
  
Jiyong wanted to ask where his money _came_ from exactly in his post-productive world but Seunghyun's childish face was a gross distraction. Seunghyun started prattling off artists names until he answered with the titles of specific works and pieces. Then Jiyong answered with questions of his own until it became a strange game, trying to catch each other unawares and outdo each-others knowledge.  
  
It was surprisingly fun.  
  
Between each round they peppered kisses across each other’s skin. While Seunghyun tried to remember who painted _Las Meninas_ , Jiyong sucked his dick and had a good time doing it. Each time Seunghyun inched closer to an answer, Jiyong would make it harder for him to concentrate until Seunghyun was a pliable, stuttering mess.   
  
The more right answers Jiyong gave, the more eager and desperate Seunghyun became until Jiyong ended their misery and straddled him. Sinking down onto his cock, Jiyong answered Seunghyun's last question about an obscure Japanese artist he thought would win him the game. Sinking the last inch until he was fully seated, Jiyong dug his nails into Seunghyun's stomach and the name of an admittedly good painting stuttered out of him.  
  
Seunghyun dug his fingers into the meat of Jiyong's thighs and cursed. Jiyong wasn't sure if the exclamation was because it felt so fucking good to _fuck_ or because he got another right answer. It didn't really matter.  
  
This is where they are now. The game continues. It has been drawing on for fifteen minutes. The only thing changed is the frequency of their questions and answers as the pauses between become more protracted. Each losing concentration in lieu of better feelings like Seunghyun's actually _perfect_ cock doing all the right things.  
  
It's crazy how good it feels but without a single finger straying near his dick, Jiyong has been rock hard since they started fucking. Riding Seunghyun has been a slow and tortuous experience. They've never really stuck to one position but this feels like a good morning to be blissfully _tortured_ and there is unspoken agreement _._ Jiyong relishes the ache in his back and thighs and the way it's not-quite-enough but absolutely is. He craves the sight of Seunghyun beneath him, his broad chest glistening with sweat. He adores the way Seunghyun's face contorts every time he clenches around him. He revels in the way Seunghyun's hands won't stay still.  
  
He loves the way Seunghyun fills him and the feeling of control. After what feels like a lifetime of being buffeted around by other people’s choices, it is _nice_ to have control, no matter how small and contained.   
  
They are a far cry now from the people they were yesterday; two lovers on the verge of parting ways forever. Jiyong compartmentalises. He doesn't think about Hyeong-bae or any part of his life outside this apartment because he and Seunghyun have agreed this is their time. They have _earned_ this time. Jiyong treats this like the most important moment of his life because it is. He only exists in the now. He doesn't allow anything else to touch him. He can't or this won't work.   
  
Things are moving with unexpected ease. It feels like they've each agreed in their own minds to erase what isn't wanted. The past sixteen months deleted. Seunghyun took a risk when he woke up but his bold hands paid off. Even when Jiyong's feelings for him were mostly rage and hurt, they still fucked like kindred spirits. There exists between them a default setting based on physical contact. Maybe post-coitally, things will be different but maybe not.  
  
The sex they're having now isn't what it was yesterday or the time before that either. This isn't unresolved sexual tension finally coming to a head. For the first time since everything fell apart, they are sharing something because it feels nice and easy and because they are happier for doing it.   
  
Jiyong gives another correct art-quiz answer and Seunghyun laughs, surprised. He doesn't know that Jiyong's had a lot of free time over the last few months and consequently gone through every posh and pretentious book in his lounge-room and then some. He's night-googled and sat on wikipedia night after night when he couldn't sleep. He has absorbed a lifetime of useless information.  
  
'Impressive,' Seunghyun smiles.  
  
'I _know_ '.  
  
It feels like a luxury to make Seunghyun smile. Each time a grin splits his face, Jiyong smiles along with him. It's an involuntary reflex. Seunghyun's smile over the past few weeks has been bitter-sweet, rife with double meanings and baggage Jiyong attributed to it. Seunghyun's smile now is simple and genuine and love struck and even if it only exists in this moment, it _exists_.  
  
Jiyong isn't sure how to tell him just how much he's enjoying their morning so he kisses Seunghyun instead, lying flush against his chest. He allows him to control their movements. Seunghyun lifts his hips to meet him and like that they establish a slow but unyielding rhythm. Seunghyun fucks up into him and Jiyong clenches around his cock, the muscles in his thighs and stomach growing tight and tense.  
  
'Shin JeHeon,' Jiyong asks, continuing the game. It's getting harder to speak, the heavier his breaths become, the more forceful Seunghyun's thrusts. It's a blissful challenge to concentrate long enough to remember the name of a single artist let alone one Seunghyun might not know. He met Shin JeHeon at a party once, when he was on the lookout for artists for his exhibition. He made sculptures out of cardboard boxes. On his phone, he had shown Jiyong a work in progress; a giant head suspended from the ceiling. It was ominous but impressive.  
  
Seunghyun's hands land lightly on Jiyong's knees and he furrows his brow, trying to concentrate on a name, delving into the depths of his memory. Jiyong takes the opportunity to stretch and lean back. He rests his hands on Seunghyun's legs and arches his spine so he can bare his neck. Though his eyes were closed seconds ago, Jiyong knows Seunghyun's eyes are locked onto him now, staring at this throat with rapt appreciation.  
  
When he looks back down it's gratifying to be proven right. Seunghyun's face is full of lust and hunger and Jiyong smiles, cheeky. He watches Seunghyun's eyes travel the expanse of his torso, stopping somewhere mid-chest. Jiyong pinches his own nipple and Seunghyun swallows hard.  
  
'You want to touch these?' Jiyong asks, smirking. 'Have I won the game? You're getting distracted'.  
  
Seunghyun swats his hand out of the way, pinching his nipple hard on purpose.   
  
_'Ow'._  
  
'You haven't won,' Seunghyun answers. 'I'm _thinking_ '.  
  
'Don't hurt yourself'.  
  
Jiyong folds his fingers around Seunghyun's hand, dragging it from nipple to mouth. He pops Seunghyun's index between his lips and rolls his tongue around the tip. He sucks on Seunghyun's finger with careful, slow ministrations until he reclaims his hand in frustration with a face 3 shades redder.  
  
Seunghyun bucks up hard. It sends a shock of pleasure through Jiyong's core that takes him by surprise. He slumps forward, resting his weight on his hands.  
  
' _Fuck_ , do that again'.  
  
Seunghyun obliges. He grabs Jiyong's ass tightly and pulls at him. He spreads him open and snaps his hips with real force. It changes the feeling entirely. Jiyong's breath hitches and a jolt of pleasure tears through him.  
  
'You like that?'  
  
_'Yes'._  
  
Jiyong hangs his head and bows forward so Seunghyun can manoeuvre a little better. Seunghyun takes the hint and moves again, bucking up a few times in quick succession; skin smacking against skin. Jiyong physically keens. Heat shoots into his face and his cock strains in response.  
  
Seunghyun reaches for his dick but Jiyong stops him. He likes the feeling of abstaining. Every movement causes his body to ignite. It's maddening how close he is. One touch and he could cum right now, it feels like that. So he doesn't touch. He draws out this _feeling_ , this on-the-edge tortuous fullness, this desperate _need_ to cum. He has felt it since they started, since he first opened his eyes. He has been perilously close since the beginning.   
  
'I could cum just like this'.  
  
Seunghyun slows for a moment.  
  
'You think so?'  
  
Jiyong tucks his hair behind his ears, still managing a precarious balancing act over Seunghyun's chest.  
  
'I don't know. It feels like it. _Fuck'._  
  
Seunghyun resumes the more punishing pace and force until Jiyong can't do anything but go still, letting Seunghyun take charge of their motions. His fingers clutch the sheets so tightly he can barely feel his hands. Each hard thrust sends pleasure shooting to his dick. It's euphoric. It washes through him like a heady wave until he is vibrating from the growing tension. Seunghyun is perfect--- he knows he's found that one blissful spot so he fucks up into it and doesn't stop.  
  
By degrees Jiyong drops lower and lower until his face is only a few inches above Seunghyun's. His arms go rubbery and weak and he spouts a thousand whispered pleas. It feels so good he could die.   
  
Jiyong's hair falls into his face and Seunghyun tucks it back behind his ear, pulling him down by the back of the neck to kiss him, only they don't kiss. Their lips touch but Seunghyun talks instead. He mouths words into Jiyong's parted lips.  
  
'You're beautiful,' he says.  
  
'Shut up'.  
  
'You are. If you could see your face—-'  
  
'Shut up,' Jiyong urges. 'God, _shut up'._  
  
Seunghyun smiles and Jiyong kisses the side of his mouth. Something ignites in his stomach and travels. That _spark_. He can feel the sudden build tightening every muscle. He's so close. The feeling is intoxicating. If he doesn't touch himself right now he will _fucking die._  
  
He doesn't give in to it. He leaves his cock untouched between them, aching and leaking, jerking on its own. Instead, he digs one of his hands into Seunghyun's arm and buries his face against his cheek.  
  
_'I'm going to cum'._  
  
'Without touchi--'  
  
'Yes, fuck,' Jiyong urges desperately. 'Just keep going. _Please_. Just like this. _Don't stop'._  
  
Seunghyun sort of grunts in answer but he does as asked. His hands hold Jiyong bruisingly tight and he fucks him at a punishing pace, hitting that sweet spot every fucking time until Jiyong's whole body is on fire and his eyes are clenched so tightly shut, they hurt in protest.  
  
When he cums, it's with a strangled sound into the side of Seunghyun's mouth, a pitiful almost-sob. He feels it in his entire body. It's almost painful. It hits him in a few quick waves until he is shaking and spent. He slumps onto Seunghyun's chest while he tries to catch his breath. Seunghyun holds the back of his head gently and kisses the side of his face.  
  
'Since when do you cum like _that?'_  
  
'I don't know,' Jiyong mumbles. 'Never done it before'.  
  
Seunghyun makes a quiet appreciative noise and lets Jiyong get his bearings. Despite being desperate to cum himself, he lets Jiyong roll off the bed with his useless baby-giraffe legs to grab a tissue. He even lies there patiently, flushed and hard while Jiyong cleans the cum off his stomach before the big finish.  
  
When Seunghyun cums himself a minute or so later, Jiyong is on his back with his hands reaching for the headboard, more vocal than he has any right to be--- only every thrust is damn near painful for how over-sensitive he is and he is so tired he can barely keep his legs up. It's fantastic. When Seunghyun cums, he goes rigid and still and Jiyong can _feel_ him cum, feel his cock twitch inside him. He clenches to tease that last little bit out of him and catches Seunghyun when he drops down, a spent and sweaty mess.   
  
Jiyong holds the back of Seunghyun's head and presses his nose against his cheek. He is exhausted but it's nice. After everything they've been through, this was so easy and so god damn _satisfying_. He could stay where he is, with his arms folded around Seunghyun's middle, for the rest of his life.  
  
It isn't just the sex either (though it _is_ the best sex he's had in years), it's all of it. It's being able to touch Seunghyun in innocuous places, to be able to hold him, be able to talk to him, be able to tell him how he feels and he feels _good._ Yesterday, this all seemed like a fever dream in some ways but he was desperate and he couldn't find a way out of the corner he was in. Now, it all seems a little easier. More manageable. Like things will be alright after all.  
  
When Seunghyun finally rolls off him, he doesn't go far. He ties a knot in the used condom and throws it on the floor before collapsing into the pillow at Jiyong's side.  
  
'Gross'.  
  
'I'm an adult. I can do what I want,' Seunghyun answers, stretching an arm above his head. 'No rules'.  
  
Jiyong sniggers and Seunghyun's eyebrows rise in rapt wonder.   
  
'Hey, you won the game'.  
  
'I _did,_ ' Jiyong answers.  
  
'Very impressive'.  
  
_'Always_ '.  
  
Seunghyun grabs Jiyong's waist and rolls him onto his side so they're sharing the pillow a few inches apart. Though he's been staring at him for 45 minutes, Jiyong is surprised to still feel a brief flutter in his stomach at their sudden proximity-- at seeing all the little quirks in Seunghyun's face he spent so long without. He hooks a foot around one of Seunghyun's calves.  
  
'Thank-you' Seunghyun says gently.  
  
'For what?'  
  
'Waking up with me'.  
  
Jiyong feels a pang in his chest and inches closer so their lips are grazing.  
  
'Shut up,' he answers.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and Jiyong kisses him. They lay together for a while in companionable silence. They kiss and they play with each other’s hair and run fingers over each other’s arms until their shared heat gives in to the cold and Jiyong decides they need a shower. A _hot_ shower.  
  
To his credit, there isn't any point between waking up and the sex and the shower where Jiyong is thinking about the wrong things. He made a decision the night before to commit to his double life and it's so easy with Seunghyun to pretend nothing else exists. Until he leaves this apartment, he is Kwon Jiyong and he wants Choi Seunghyun and it's a little complicated sure, but that doesn't really matter. This is it.  
  
He slips into their old life as if it's that easy.  
  


  
  
* * *

 

  
  
Showered and starving, Jiyong stands in the kitchen, staring into an empty fridge. There's some off milk and a few eggs he won't even think about touching; some kind of green leafy thing in the crisper he's too scared to open. Some condiments.  
  
'Where is the food?'  
  
'I don't have any,' Seunghyun answers, following him into the kitchen. 'I order in'.  
  
'Three times a day? What do you eat for breakfast?'  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and leans back against the far counter.  
  
'You don't even have _bread?_ ' Jiyong asks, exasperated. 'I'm _starving'._  
  
They didn't eat the night before. After their bitter back-and-forth and the surprise sex, they just talked for a while They got everything out in the open and talked things out but they were asleep before nine, both hopelessly exhausted. It's past ten now, which means they slept for a good eleven or twelve hours and Jiyong is suffering for it. He has barely eaten in two days.  
  
He moves to the nearest cupboard and swings it open to find a similar situation. An eerie number of spices stare back at him from the shelf but nothing to indicate there is food to _be_ spiced. When he reaches for the next cupboard, Seunghyun lunges forward and tries to stop him but it's too late. The door swings open and there on the bottom two shelves are a myriad number of spirits and red and white wines alike. There's a lot of them. Seunghyun gawps like a fish, his arm outstretched as if he's about to _explain_ before realising he can't. He avoids eye contact.  
  
'Jiyong, I---'  
  
'It's fine'.  
  
Jiyong closes the cupboard. He moves onto the next to try and brush off the discovery but as he scans the next set of empty shelves, he sees Seunghyun in the corner being devoured by shame and guilt. He gives up on his plight for food because there obviously _isn't_ any. He is destined to starve. Instead, he grabs the middle of Seunghyun's shirt and pulls him in a step.  
  
'It's fine,' he reiterates.  
  
'It's not'.  
  
'Well no,' Jiyong answers, 'It's not. You're right. But it's hard. I know that. It's okay if you have a few rough starts. You think none of the people in your AA meetings ever fucked up? You have to take it day by day. It's a big deal _'._  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer, he just looks at his feet and Jiyong lets go of his shirt, feeling guilty. Before what happened at the bar, Seunghyun had been sober for weeks. He had been doing well on his own.  
  
'Am I going to be a problem for you?' he asks seriously. 'Us doing this? I backed you into a corner yesterday and I'm sorry about that. I didn't care if this was going to be hard on you. I was only thinking about myself'.  
  
Seunghyun makes eye contact and Jiyong returns it. He means what he says. Sharing this morning together reignited the rational, less self-absorbed side of himself. Crudely, it probably happened while he was sucking Seunghyun's dick. He doesn't _just_ want Seunghyun to feel good and to make him happy, he wants him to _be_ happy. If that means they don't get to be together anymore, so be it. It's a heavy price but one he's willing to pay. He's ashamed of himself for not thinking so yesterday when it mattered.  
  
'If you and I doing all this makes you want to drink or makes it harder for you to say sober, you tell me. I'll do the right thing. I will. I'm sorry I didn't feel that way yesterday. I want you to be okay, whatever that means for you and me. I’m pretty sure in AA, you’re supposed to abstain from sex and dating for twelve months anyway’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles mutedly and steps forward, kissing the top of his head.  
  
'You're not a problem. I don't drink because of _you_. I drink because I'm an alcoholic,' he says quietly. Jiyong thinks it's the first time he's ever heard Seunghyun use that word. Not explaining himself in vague terms like, _'I like to drink,'_ or ' _maybe I have a problem,_ ' but--- ' _I'm an alcoholic'_. Explicit.  
  
'I've never heard you say that before'.  
  
'I've never said it outside of a _church'._  
  
Jiyong folds his arms around Seunghyun's waist and kisses the fabric of his shirt. There are a lot of things he wants to say but he doesn't know which is right and which is wrong. He tries to infuse all the unsaid things into this one hug. In a way, it feels like Seunghyun gets it. They manage to communicate the important stuff.  
  
Jiyong can barely remember all the pamphlets and websites he went trawling through years ago when Seunghyun's drinking became a visible problem and his own concern hit fever pitch. He was _days_ away from staging a full blown intervention with friends and family alike because one night Seunghyun drank until he couldn't rouse him. That night, Jiyong felt the chill hand of death like a third person in the room. He felt real fear for Seunghyun's future.  
  
Thankfully, Seunghyun seemed to have the same fears. He settled down and Jiyong was eager to forget about it. He wanted the drinking problem to go away so he averted his eyes. He absorbed all the relevant information though, all the How-To's and What Not To-Do's. There was a lot of contradictory information. There were things you couldn't do and supportive gestures that weren't actually helpful but enabling instead.  
  
Jiyong wants to take every bottle in Seunghyun's cupboard and pour them down the sink but that's something Seunghyun needs to do for himself. Isn't it? He thinks he read that once. It's all a little complicated.  
  
His stomach rumbles so loudly, Seunghyun snorts in answer. The serious atmosphere quickly dissolves and he is eager to let it. Jiyong slumps like a child.  
  
'I'm going to throw up, I'm so god damn _hungry_. Buy some fucking food next time I come over'.  
  
He nudges Seunghyun away and moves to collect his shoes. He would have liked to stay for breakfast but with alcohol and ice cubes the only items on the menu, he reconsiders. Is there a McDonalds nearby? He mentally runs through all the places between here and home that serve breakfast.  
  
He's so wrapped up in thoughts of food it takes him longer than it should to hear the code by the door. The unmistakeable sound of the PIN being entered outside. He looks back at Seunghyun in confusion.  
  
'Are you being _robbed?'_  
  
Seunghyun curses and reaches the door so quickly Jiyong feels a breeze as he passes. Seunghyun kicks a leg out just in time to stop the door from opening further than the foot it has already opened by the time he reaches it. Jiyong stares in amazement as a woman's voice breaks the silence, sight unseen.  
  
'What are you doing?' She asks.  
  
'What are _you_ doing?' Seunghyun answers angrily. 'You can't just walk in here!'  
  
Jiyong edges back into the kitchen for a lack of anywhere else to go. He rounds the counter and watches things unfold from a safe place. He doesn't know what else to do. He's stunned into inaction.  
  
'Open the door,' she says. 'I'm carrying things'.  
  
Seunghyun goes rigid for a moment out of sheer frustration but quickly gives in. He steps back and the heavy door opens in full. Jiyong almost dies from surprise when Seunghyun's mother walks in, shopping bags in tow. When she sees him standing in the kitchen she has a similar expression of awe.  
  
Jiyong can count the number of times he's met Seunghyun's mother on his two hands and on each of those occasions, while always polite, she distanced herself from everyone around her. She was quiet and reserved. Sometimes Jiyong could see traits of Seunghyun in her, at others he marvelled at their shared blood. All he knows about Seunghyun's mother is what he gleaned over the years hearing Seunghyun's side of their frequent phone conversations so--- basically _nothing._ Even before they debuted, Jiyong rarely saw her. Seunghyun would come to his house or they would hang out on the street. Seunghyun's house was always off limits. It was just mutually understood without them ever really talking about it.  
  
Eventually, he gains enough sense to help her with her bags at least. He bows and kowtows and makes an ass of himself before leaving her in the lounge-room with Seunghyun. He takes her bags into the kitchen, filled with envy looking at the plethora of groceries suddenly laid out before him. Apparently, like an infant, Seunghyun needs his mom to stock his kitchen.  
  
'I have a guest,' Seunghyun says tiredly from the other room.  
  
'I can see that. You should have said something, _'_ his mother replies.  
  
'When was I supposed to _tell_ you?' Seunghyun asks quietly. 'When I psychically felt your presence outside? You didn't ring the bell. You can't walk into my house without ringing the bell first. I gave you the code and a key for _emergencies'._  
  
Jiyong watches their hushed conversation from the kitchen, marvelling at their efforts to remain unheard yet hearing every word nonetheless.  
  
'What does it matter? What could you possibly be doing in here? I'm your mother'.  
  
Jiyong flushes and pulls out the groceries for something to do. If she had walked in thirty minutes ago she would have found her son balls-deep inside him. At the very least she would have heard things a mother can't unhear. Jiyong feels a pang of anxiety. They didn't even close the bedroom door.  
  
Eavesdropping, it becomes obvious this kind of unsolicited invasion has happened before. It accounts for Seunghyun's total lack of surprise. If Jiyong doesn't think about all the ways this morning could have ended disastrously, it's kind of nice to see them together. They haven't talked about Seunghyun's family much over the past few weeks but when they last did, he and his mother were barely speaking. If she's buying groceries for him, something must have changed. The Choi family getting back together. Simpatico once more.  
  
Jiyong wonders if the groceries he's handling are even _for_ Seunghyun. He looks at the myriad items on the counter and wavers. What if he misread the situation? What if these are _her_ groceries and he's just unpacked them like an asshole? Jiyong panics and tries to reload the grocery bags in silence but every rustle of the bag makes him sweat.  
  
'What are you _doing?'_  
  
Jiyong is startled. He grimaces at Seunghyun's confusion and straightens when his mother trails in behind him. The look on her face makes it embarrassingly obvious that unpacking the groceries _was_ the expected course of action. She stands beside him at the counter and assesses his efforts.  
  
'Hello Jiyong,' she says, eyes locked on the counter. She pats his arm gently and says, 'you're very slow'.  
  
'Uh---'.  
  
'He's not here to unpack groceries,' Seunghyun interjects.  
  
She waves her hand to brush him off. _He's in the kitchen so he should make himself useful._ It's that kind of thing. Jiyong prays for a swift death. This is already humiliating. Seunghyun is no help. He has to unload the groceries alone, passing random meats and vegetables to Seunghyun's mother at the fridge in silence.  
  
When they finish, Jiyong fumbles for an excuse to get out of there but she starts asking questions about his life and he can't get away from her.  
  
_'How are your parents?'  
'How is the music?'  
'Is marriage on the horizon? The clock is ticking'._  
  
At the last he is especially useless. He stammers like a child until he's reduced to a shrug and a grunt. Seunghyun's mother is intimidating despite her small stature. He just fucked her son after all. Jiyong feels the strain.   
  
She moves out of the kitchen and Seunghyun takes her place, resting his elbows on the counter. Jiyong nudges him to communicate a variety of things like, _this is awkward, I'm getting out of here_ and the same message _again_ but with more pizazz and urgency. Things don't work out. The moment Seunghyun turns, his mother draws his attention away. She slides something over the counter. It's all very hush hush, like she's one part of a sinister back alley drug deal.  
  
Seunghyun takes the proffered card and turns it over.  
  
'What's this?'  
  
It's a business card for a salon.  
  
'Listen,' his mother says conspiratorially. Her voice quietens as she leans in. 'When I was getting my hair done, I ran into a friend. Her daughter is your age you know---'  
  
Jiyong's stomach sinks at the same moment Seunghyun goes rigid beside him. This is one of those conversations best had in private. He knows that because he's had it with his own family a hundred times. He can't listen to this. Seunghyun seems to agree because he straightens up almost immediately and turns with a big fake smile for his mother’s benefit.  
  
'Jiyong has to go now. Say goodbye, Mom. You'll have to embarrass me without an audience'.  
  
Jiyong returns the big fake smile and is about to gratefully play along but Seunghyun's mother makes a quiet sound. A little _tsch._  
  
'Am I embarrassing you?' she asks good-naturedly. 'I'm an embarrassment because I want my son to be happy? Lock me up and throw away the key'.  
  
Jiyong can't help but grimace. His stomach rumbles and he holds his stomach. She hears and stares at Seunghyun as if genuinely stricken.  
  
'You didn't feed him?'  
  
'There was no food'.  
  
She walks around the partition into the kitchen and Jiyong has to fall back against the sink to give her room. She opens the fridge without hesitation.  
  
'I'll make you something to eat before you go'.  
  
Her face is hidden by the fridge door but Jiyong assumes she's speaking to him and stares wide-eyed at Seunghyun opposite her. He gestures helplessly _. Do something._  
  
'Mom. He has to _go_. He can't stay for food'.  
  
She stands straight with something green in her hand and gives Seunghyun a doleful look.  
  
'Of course he can. Ten minutes makes no difference to anyone. No wonder you haven't got a woman in your life. You can't even feed your friends'. She drops a bundle of herbs on the counter and a few eggs beside the business card. She taps that loudly. 'The number on the back of this is for a _nice_ girl. Very pretty. She owns a clothing store in Hongdae. Her mother owns the salon I go to. I told her you would call'.  
  
She disappears once more behind the refrigerator door and Seunghyun rolls his eyes. Jiyong watches him pick the card off the counter and throw it in the bin. His mother watches also.  
  
'Why did you do that?'  
  
'I've told you a thousand times not to set me up'.  
  
She huffs in a way only mothers can and Jiyong shrinks. This is all too reminiscent of conversations he's had with his own family except from the outside looking in, it's a thousand times more humiliating. He has no way out except to walk right through them and he can't do that.  
  
'You're almost thirty years old and you don't have a girlfriend,' she says. 'When was the last time you had a girlfriend? I can't even remember. Is that normal?'  
  
She spins around and gestures emphatically towards Jiyong.  
  
'You have a girlfriend, don't you? I remember from a long time ago'.  
  
Jiyong's mouth drops but he sees Seunghyun nod gently from over his mother’s shoulder (giving him permission) and he does what anyone else would do. He lies. He says what's easiest for him and tells Seunghyun's mother he has a long-term girlfriend.  
  
'I do,' he says quietly. 'For a few years'.  
  
This seems to vindicate her. _His_ normalcy seems proof of Seunghyun's irregularity and she turns on him with renewed vigour. Though nothing she says has any malice to it, Jiyong hears each word for what it is. The implications are there that Seunghyun is wasting his life and will end up alone and unhappy. Why? Because there's something wrong with him. There must be.  
  
The cute moment of mother-embarrassing-son turns heavy and serious very quickly. It almost defies belief.  
  
She stands at the counter with an egg in her hand as if she'll crack it wide open and lists every family member who's ever asked the same questions, implying Seunghyun's entire family think he's harbouring a sordid secret that explains his lack of luck in love.  
  
'What happened to _Eun-Byul_ or _So-Won_? They liked you a lot. Didn't you have a good time with them?'  
  
Jiyong pauses at this.  
  
He and Seunghyun make eye contact. While she talks over them, Jiyong interprets Seunghyun's expression and understands too quickly. There were times a proffered phone number wasn't the limit of her meddling. There were times Seunghyun was forced to play along. Times he had to physically go on dates with women to appease his mother. Probably while they were dating.  
  
In the past Jiyong would talk to Seunghyun about his own family when they brought up marriage and babies. All Seunghyun ever said in the same vein was a passing comment _once_ saying he thought his mother might know he was gay. That was it. One comment a hundred years ago and _nothing_ after that.  
  
_When?_ Jiyong mouths.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs in answer, confirming well enough there were times when they were together that he snuck out to restaurants with women his mother chose for him.  
  
Still talking, she brings up Seunghyun's sister and her husband and Yeon-Jun.  
  
'Don't you want a nice family like that?' she asks. 'Time doesn't wait for anybody. You have to get serious about your future. Who will look after you when I'm gone? Will you look after yourself? Good luck'.  
  
Jiyong reels.  
  
This isn't an embarrassing situation any longer, it's something else. The mood in the room shifts until Jiyong can hardly breathe for how much he wants to get out. Each passing word between Seunghyun and his mother form a kind of avalanche, the inevitable conflict growing bigger and heavier and more destructive.  
  
'Jiyong, get out of here,' Seunghyun says. 'You can leave'.  
  
His mother makes that sound again, that quiet _tsch._ She puts down the egg and turns towards Jiyong who is trying to walk around her. He smiles instinctively, the placating smile he has towards all authority figures.  
  
'I'm just saying,' she tells him conversationally. 'What's a mother to do? You'll understand when you have kids. Don't you know any girls you can call for him? You two have been friends for years, you must know what it is,' she gestures towards Seunghyun. 'What his problem is? Why isn't he bringing girls home to meet us?'  
  
'There's no problem,' Jiyong answers. 'Honestly'.  
  
'Then why is he alone?' she asks, as if Seunghyun isn't even there. 'What is it? I don't know what to do'.  
  
'I'd love it if you did _nothing_ ,' Seunghyun interjects. 'Stop talking'.  
  
At Jiyong, he snaps his fingers. He clears an exit out of the kitchen for him.  
  
'I just worry about you. Call this girl,' Seunghyun's mother says, inadvertently blocking Jiyong's exit. She retrieves the card from the bin. Suddenly they are all occupying the same three feet of space and Jiyong doesn't know where to go. He steps back to give them room but it's not enough. He feels surrounded.  
  
Seunghyun takes the card from his mother and tears it in two, letting the pieces fall to the floor. Jiyong braces himself for the storm about to unfold around him. This wreck is unfolding so quickly, it's all he can do.  
  
'I'm not interested,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
Jiyong imagines every possible answer, every _lie_ to diffuse the situation like the ones he employs himself as well as every honest, impossible confession to the contrary. He imagines it all but what Seunghyun says next surprises him.  
  
'You _know_ why'.  
  
The implications of that take time to settle in.  
  
'Because you're stubborn,' she answers quickly.  
  
'Is that what they call it?'  
  
Jiyong watches rapt as Seunghyun's mother makes a quiet sound and turns. Her profile visible to him, her face is an open book. Suddenly the pieces come together in Jiyong's head and he understands what is happening here. This isn't like the conversations he has with his own family at all, onerous but _innocent._  
  
Seunghyun's mother knows he's _gay._  
  
She knows. Her look is an admission. Seunghyun's reaction to her invasion and interference suddenly make sense. This has happened before, not once but a dozen times. It must have. Their words and reactions are too well rehearsed. Seunghyun has lived this passive confrontation over and over again.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
How does she know? Did Seunghyun tell her or was it something she intuited by looking at the facts? How long has this been going on? How long has she known and pretended not to? How long has Seunghyun's mother been _torturing_ him; torturing herself under the assumption wishful thinking and perseverance might change him? If she slides enough phone numbers across the counter maybe he'll simply change his mind?  
  
Suddenly, all these little innocuous things she's said since she arrived become loaded jabs designed to hurt Seunghyun where it counts. It seems impossible she could know about him and still say those things.  
  
Jiyong is startled by Seunghyun's sharp tone. He speaks to him directly.  
  
'Get out of here'.  
  
Shocked, Jiyong heeds the demand and slips out of the kitchen. Seunghyun's mother continues talking, defending herself but making things worse. Everything she says makes Jiyong tremble from anxiety. Thoughts which moments ago seemed like the casual concerns of a mother now strike him as profoundly cruel.  
  
He moves towards the door but feels immobilised by shame.  
  
He feels _guilty._  
  
He feels the weight of a mother’s disappointment because the things about Seunghyun which are obviously shameful to her are in him as well. Though he sometimes worried about his parents finding out about Seunghyun, Jiyong never feared the worst. He was prepared for disappointment and anger but he hoped they would understand him, that they would _try._  
  
Liking men doesn't feel like the wrong thing. It never felt wrong. It's the same as liking women. It feels like that. He once thought Seunghyun was the exception to his otherwise straight existence but what does that make Hyeong-bae? He's equally capable of liking men and women both and that's okay. Isn't it?  
  
Jiyong pauses by the door, unable to shut his ears to the heated conversation in the kitchen. Seunghyun's mother is extolling _his_ virtues to Seunghyun while he's still in earshot, comparing their accomplishments and their weaknesses. Jiyong wins because he has a girlfriend. This makes him a better and more well-rounded person than Seunghyun can ever hope to be.  
  
_Why can't you be more like Jiyong?_  
  
Guilt and hurt wash over him.  
  
He thinks about the morning he and Seunghyun had together and how nice it was. He feels guilty for not staying to defend him against his mother’s onslaught. He feels sorry for the burden he has had to carry all this time. Most of all he feels sorry for Seunghyun's mother.  
  
He's sorry that for all the years he and Seunghyun spent happily together, she didn't know. He wants her to know that her worries are unnecessary. Seunghyun _is_ capable of being happy, capable of being one half of a healthy relationship, even if that stopped being true in the end, for a while.  
  
'You have to get serious about your life,' she says from the kitchen. 'This isn't a joke any more. You're wasting time. I thought that long holiday would help you sort things out but it didn't'.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes by the door and listens, unable to leave. Neither Seunghyun or his mother seem to realise he is still in the apartment, listening to every word. Is that what his family think Japan was to him? A vacation when instead he was only half there, too drunk to live, too drunk to end it all.  
  
She has no idea what Seunghyun was doing in Japan or why. She doesn't know why Seunghyun wouldn't visit his grandmother. She doesn't know how close she came to _losing_ him. For a brief moment Jiyong pities her. All the more because if the worst had happened, she wouldn't have known how _loved_ Seunghyun was.   
  
'I wasn't on holiday'.  
  
'I don't know who you are any more. How can I not be worried? I don't know what's going to happen to you'.  
  
'I don't think you care,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'That's not fair'.  
  
_'This_ isn't fair'.  
  
Jiyong opens his eyes and stares at the heavy door keeping him from freedom. All he has to do is pull it open and leave.   
  
'You're almost thirty years old,' she says quietly. 'This isn't a game anymore'.  
  
Is Seunghyun's life a game? His lack of interest in women some elaborate joke played out since childhood? His proclivities towards men an elaborate scheme designed to her hurt and little else? Jiyong wavers at the door. What sort of person will he be if he leaves Seunghyun here alone to listen to this bullshit. To be shamed for being who he is. He is struggling enough already, this is added weight he doesn't need.  
  
Jiyong bolsters himself and turns on a whim. He clears his throat so they know he's coming and enters the kitchen easily like there isn't a horrible _domestic_ unfolding before his eyes. He looks around as if he's lost something.  
  
'I'm sorry,' he says gently. 'I left my phone somewhere'.  
  
Seunghyun shoots him a knowing look but seems to appreciate the sentiment. The hope that physically being present in the room with them will end the conversation and free him, at least until next time.  
  
Only, it doesn't. Jiyong reels when Seunghyun's mother continues, so worked up she doesn't care about decorum or the fact there is a guest three feet away hearing every word she says.  
  
'What would your friends think?' she asks quietly. 'It's shameful. That's why you keep it a secret, because it's not right and you know it'.  
  
Jiyong stands at the sink and trembles. These two have spoken to each other twice a week for the past ten years. How can she do this to him? Jiyong feels as if he's in Seunghyun's place, being eviscerated by the person he loves most. It's horrible.  
  
'Do you want me to tell my friends? Will that prove something?' Seunghyun asks her. He speaks to Jiyong's back. 'Jiyong, I have to tell you something. I'm not interested in women. I actually like men. Now you know'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes water and he clutches the counter, unable to turn around. He faces the window. He can't become a part of this. He can't do it. He only came back to support Seunghyun in a passive, silent way, in the hopes it would end things. If he thought things were capable of getting worse he wouldn't have done it. He wouldn't have had the guts.  
  
Seunghyun's mother gasps at the big reveal and Jiyong can feel her shock and humiliation even with his back turned. Despite having outed their grievances in front of him, perhaps she thought Jiyong was ignorant to the big secret, the big homosexual question. As if the two of them had been discrete with their veiled meanings.  
  
'That's a joke, of course,' she seems to try and say.  
  
'No, it's not,' Seunghyun snaps.  
  
From her there is silence. There's a long period of quiet as if she's trying to find a way out, a way to erase what has just happened. When she speaks again, it's a thousand times more brutal and unexpected than Jiyong could have imagined. Speaking distinctly to Seunghyun in a whisper, Jiyong's heart breaks in two when he hears her.  
  
'I have tried and tried and tried to raise you well. I have bent over backwards for you and what was it for? You throwing your life away? On a whim you want to waste your entire life? Fine. When you grow old, who will take care of you? When I'm dead who is going to love you? Nobody. You won't have anybody'.  
  
Jiyong's face contorts as he tries to hold back his tears. His chest shakes from held-in sobs. When he hears Seunghyun's voice behind him, it only becomes harder. Where before he sounded tired but sure of himself, so used to this kind of harangue, Seunghyun suddenly sounds insecure and hurt by his mother words.  
  
'Is it better to spend my life happy with men or unhappy with women?'  
  
His mother’s silence is all the answer Jiyong needs. He wipes his eyes. He catches his reflection in the kitchen window and behind him, Seunghyun's face. Stunned. Reeling inside from his mother’s assertion that his happiness isn't actually what matters in the end. Better to be miserable with a woman than happy with a man.  
  
'Do you think a man will ever love you?' She asks gently. 'Nobody will ever love you if you think this way. How could they? The only people who think like this are miserable. Happy and healthy people don't want these things.’  
  
Seunghyun's answer makes Jiyong's blood run cold. As if he has pre-cognition Jiyong knows what is about to happen whole minutes before it does. While Seunghyun talks Jiyong prays in his mind, _don't do it. Please don't do it._  
  
'Say I was in a relationship for years and loved someone more than anything. If I would have given my life for them and if every second I spent with them made my life better--- would you be happy for me? Would you be happy to know they felt the same way about me?'  
  
'Of course'.  
  
'And if that person was a man? What then?'  
  
'How could that be true? You can't love a man as you would a woman. Where would you find another man who thinks like that? How could you meet anybody like that? It would end up on the news! You would lose everything!'  
  
The moment she finishes Jiyong knows what Seunghyun is about to do. He sees Seunghyun's reflection turn towards him in the window and his own face, one of total distress. _Don't do it. Don't do this to me._  
  
'Don't'.  
  
As the word passes his lips, Seunghyun drags him into the middle of the kitchen. He intertwines their fingers and Jiyong freezes. He stares at his feet. Like a wounded animal, he plays dead. _This isn't happening._  
  
'What are you doing?' Seunghyun's mother asks, genuinely stunned.  
  
'It's surprisingly easy when you date another celebrity,' Seunghyun tells her. He sounds almost calm but Jiyong can feel his hand shaking in his. 'All the time you spend together can be excused away. If you're caught there are explanations to cover almost anything'.  
  
'Why are you doing this to your friend?' She answers. 'Look how upset he is. This isn't a joke'.  
  
'No, it's not a joke. I'm not joking'.  
  
Seunghyun yanks Jiyong's hand up with his own as if showing their intertwined fingers is proof enough. Jiyong lets Seunghyun pull him this way and that. He doesn't try to fight it or take his hand back. It's too late. None of this can be taken back. Seunghyun has made this decision for the both of them.   
  
_Fuck._  
  
Seunghyun's mother says his name.  
  
'Jiyong'.  
  
She speaks to him directly and he crumbles. She coaxes his head up with gentle words until they're making eye contact.  
  
She wants to say, ' _I'm sorry for my son and his behaviour. I'm sorry we've made you a part of our private disagreement. I'm sorry my son has done the unthinkable and suggested you're somehow like him--- that you're a part of his unreal life-- this elaborate joke he is living because he's not capable of being serious'._  
  
Jiyong can see through tearful eyes all the apologies and gentle explanations Seunghyun's mother means to give. But she doesn't say any of them because when their eyes meet, she _knows_. Maybe it's that motherly instinct or maybe it's the crushing shame pouring out of him, but she knows. Jiyong and Seunghyun. Friends and then some.  
  
'But your girlfriend?' she asks.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head, wracked with guilt.  
  
'You and my _son?'_  
  
She searches between them and Jiyong's lack of answer seems confirmation enough. It's a horrible moment but it gets worse. She looks at him in this _way_ \--- this way nobody has ever looked at him before and Jiyong pales. She looks at him like he's betrayed her and he buckles under her scrutiny; as if his earlier politeness was a way of laughing at her, knowing they were on opposite sides.  
  
She looks at him as if he should feel guilty, as if the shame he feels isn't enough. As if he bears some of the responsibility for who Seunghyun is and the choices he has made.  
  
_I'm responsible because he loves me. She blames me._  
  
Then she says something so horrible, it's a fatal blow. She aims for his heart and she wounds him easily the way only a mother could.  
  
'Does _your_ mother know?'  
  
Jiyong lets out a little sob and feels a surge of panic and dread that his own mother might one day look at him the way Seunghyun's mother has done. That he could lose his own parents the way Seunghyun has lost his. Not physically but emotionally, he has lost their trust and that childlike feeling that love will triumph over all. He couldn't bear it. He is _afraid._  
  
'Please don't tell my mother,' Jiyong urges tearfully. 'Please don't tell my family'.  
  
'I don't understand either of you,' she says. To Jiyong specifically, 'If this was okay, would you be crying? You wouldn't ask me not to tell your mother. If this is okay why are you ashamed to tell your parents?'  
  
Seunghyun lets go of his hand and Jiyong deflates. No longer tethered to somebody, he disappears inside himself. He stares at the floor and doesn't move. He doesn't lift his head. He doesn't do anything. It feels as if his heart has been ripped out of his body and torn to pieces before his eyes. Shoved back in, he feels it in his chest, disassembled and only half there.   
  
_Maybe she's right._  
  
If she knew the whole story, what then? If she knew about Seunghyun's depression and his alcoholism would that become Jiyong's fault too? Would he share a hand in the blame? Is Seunghyun the way he is because he's _broken?_ Maybe if he liked women he would be a happier and healthier person. Maybe there's merit in that idea.  
  
_Maybe._  
  
Maybe this is Jiyong's fault because he kissed him when he was twenty-one.   
  
_Maybe._  
  
Have their lives become so complicated because they both have dicks or is it just one of those things? If one of them was a woman would things have turned out the same? Would they have suffered so much? Less? More?  
  
Seunghyun tells his mother to _get out_ with real hostility but she's already leaving. Maybe she'll come back in a few weeks and do this again. Maybe she'll promise another girl that Seunghyun will call. Maybe they won't speak again. Maybe Jiyong has just witnessed the dissolution of Seunghyun's family.  
  
_Maybe._  
  
Jiyong overhears their parting words at the door, much as he wants not to.  
  
'I'm your mother'.  
  
'I wish that were true'.  
  
The heavy door swings open and shut.  
  
Jiyong lets out a long-held breath and the floodgates open. He cries. It hits him so suddenly he doesn't know how to stop. He stands in the centre of Seunghyun's kitchen and _cries_ , tears hitting the toes of his shoes.  
  
Being outed to John Lee was one thing. John Lee is gay and he saved Seunghyun's life, it was different. Bad enough but _tolerable_. This? Jiyong reels. He clutches at his stomach and every string of stress and panic and fear and guilt pour out of him.  
  
This was never supposed to happen. Not ever. He was supposed to die with the people closest to him not _knowing_. Only two people were _ever_ allowed to know and now that number has grown exponentially. He no longer has control. How many people will know in a weeks-time? In a month? How long until his life falls apart because Seunghyun couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut?  
  
Seunghyun enters the kitchen, dazed. He runs a finger beneath the collar of his shirt, not altogether there as if he's surprised by what he's just said and done.  
  
'You outed me,' Jiyong starts.  
  
'I'm sorry'.  
  
'You don't get to _do_ that,' Jiyong answers tearfully. 'It's _my_ choice not yours. You've done this twice now. _Twice_ you've risked my fucking life and my career without me getting a say. You don't get to speak for me just because it's easier for you. Not about this. This is my fucking life. Who I fuck isn't your secret to tell'.  
  
'I didn't mean to'.  
  
'Yes you did! I knew what you were going to do before you even opened your mouth. How could you _do_ that to me?'  
  
Seunghyun crumples. His calm exterior cracks and he hangs his head in shame.  
  
'I'm _sorry,'_ he says quietly. He really does look dazed. Jiyong watches him with growing concern. _'_ I was just so tired of hearing it?' he says confusedly. 'Over and over again for _years_. I've waited so long to have a morning with you like this one. I didn't want her to come in and take it away from me. I didn't want to listen to her anymore. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I know'.  
  
All at once, the strain and the stress and the hurt take their toll. Seunghyun cries, albeit restrained. He locks a palm over his face until all Jiyong can see are his eyes clenched tight. His body racks with tiny silent sobs and Jiyong gets mad all over again, not at Seunghyun and how fucking _stupid_ he is but at the injustice of it all. He has cried too much over the past two years and Seunghyun enough for a lifetime.   
  
Everything _he_ feels about what just happened, Seunghyun must feel tenfold. He's been dealing with this shit for a long time. Even _though_ it was selfish and bad timing and one of the worst experiences of his entire fucking life to be outed, Seunghyun defended himself in the process. He pushed back against years of his mother subtly chipping away at him.  
  
Jiyong puts aside his frustration and humiliation for now and pulls Seunghyun into a hug. He grabs him tight and holds the back of his head.  
  
'I'm mad at you,' Jiyong says, ‘for outing me, but I'm proud of what you just did _._ That was so brave,' he breathes. 'Fuck, that was _horrible._ I'm so sorry’.  
  
How horrible it must be to have your own mother do what Seunghyun's mother just did to him.  
  
'She loves you,' Jiyong says quickly. 'She _loves_ you. She just--- I don't know. It won't always be like that. I'm sure it won't. She loves you. She just needs time. One day--'  
  
'It's alright,' Seunghyun answers quietly.  
  
Jiyong doesn't continue. He has to believe this is a bump in the road, that however long this has been going on between the two of them, there is an end _somewhere_. Seunghyun's mother does _love_ him. Half of her erroneous arguments stemmed from misguided love. One day she has to accept him for who he is. Jiyong believes that. He has to. She'll have to stop rewriting his history if she wants to be a part of his life.  
  
'She won't tell anybody,' Seunghyun says reassuringly.  
  
'I hope not'. It hardly bears thinking about. What's done is done. If she tells someone, she tells someone. There's nothing he can do. The wheels are already in motion. His life is in her hands.  
  
'She wouldn't want anyone else to know. Big family secret,' Seunghyun continues.  
  
Jiyong sighs and holds him a little tighter.   
  
'I really am sorry,' he says quietly. 'I don't know what else to say'.

 

  
  
*

  
  
  
Twenty minutes later things have calmed somewhat. Seunghyun is fiddling in the kitchen making fancy looking coffees with a machine Jiyong doesn't understand. He seems alright. A little shaken and tired but it's not the end of the world.  
  
What just happened isn't something Jiyong ever anticipated. He was wholly unprepared. Seunghyun must have expected it to happen sooner or later. He must have readied himself for the big dissolution so it wouldn't hurt him as much.  
  
While Seunghyun makes the coffees, Jiyong asks him about it all. He asks how long his mother has known and if he told her or if she figured it out. Seunghyun says they never explicitly _talked_ about it. He sensed she knew and they would always speak to each other the way they did earlier, in metaphors and analogies, circuitously avoiding the core of the problem. His mother would push women on him, always ask him about his love life, always meddle as much as she could get away with.  
  
Seunghyun had dinner a few times with women his mother set him up with. He apologises for that and Jiyong shrugs it off. Women were never any threat to him. The act of dinner itself doesn't bother him, the lack of openness does. They were partners. He should have told him.  
  
'What was different about today?' Jiyong asks. 'Why did this all blow up _today?'_  
  
'You were here,' Seunghyun answers. 'She upset you. I didn't want you to listen to her and feel like she was talking about you or your life. I didn't want you to feel bad about yourself. I didn't want her to stand there and say you or I can't be happy with our choices or the people we are'.  
  
Jiyong sits at the counter, fidgeting.  
  
'Are you happy with the choices you've made?'  
  
'Yes,' Seunghyun answers, smacking the lid down on his mystery machine. He hits a button and silence gives way to a churning sound which morphs into a whistle. 'They're not choices though, are they? I don't hate my life if that's what you mean. I hate parts of it but not the part you're talking about. I'm not sorry for being this person'.  
  
Jiyong smiles mutedly and stares back at his hands. Soon enough, he feels Seunghyun's gaze like a pair of knuckles rapping against his skull.  
  
'You don't feel that way?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer. Not at first. It isn't that his earlier thoughts and feelings were platitudes. He didn't tell Seunghyun he was brave or that his mother was wrong because it's what people say, he _believed_ it. He doesn't think he's a bad person for liking men. He doesn't think that about Seunghyun or anybody else either.  
  
All the same, Seunghyun's mother hurt him. She _shamed_ him. Why _is_ he so scared to tell his parents? Coming out to the world is one thing, their careers are at stake but family? Why didn't he tell his mother he was in love years ago? Why didn't he tell her the truth when Seunghyun disappeared and he needed someone to talk to? If she stood beside him right now he wouldn't tell her still. Why?  
  
'I've never felt like this before,' he confesses.  
  
'Like what?'  
  
'Guilty'.  
  
'She does that,' Seunghyun answers. 'She isn't _right_ though. You know that, don't you?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer.  
  
'The way I feel about you isn't wrong. It's not a bad thing. It's not the _wrong_ thing. Tell me you know that,' Seunghyun says gently.  
  
Jiyong lifts his head and wipes a tear from his cheek. He looks at Seunghyun's worried face and it breaks his heart. He wants to kiss away his pain. He wants to run his fingers through Seunghyun's hair the way he used to when they were young. He wants to keep him safe from harm and hurt the way he wasn't able to just now. He should have been able to protect him but he couldn't.  
  
He's never loved somebody the way he loves Seunghyun. He has never been so willing to throw it all away, never been so invested, never so happy, never so broken.  
  
He knows that isn't _wrong._  
  
'Why didn't you tell me what was going on?'  
  
'I was worried you would think she was right,' Seunghyun answers. 'If I told you, maybe you would see things differently. Maybe you wouldn't think I was worth it any more'.  
  
'That's neurotic'.  
  
'Maybe,' Seunghyun answers. 'Has this---'  
  
Has this what? Jiyong wonders. Has this changed things between us? Has she come between us after all? Do I see the world in a new light? Is this shame and guilt overwhelming proof that we're a mistake?  
  
Jiyong laughs mutedly and answers the unasked question.  
  
'No. We're fine'.  
  
He rubs his eyes and rests his head on the counter, angling so he can still see Seunghyun from the pillow of his arms. He tries to bury the unwanted guilt.  
  
'Remember when our lives were boring?' he says. 'We just slept when we didn't have schedules and ate and watched movies. Sometimes we went out, sometimes we didn't. That was fun. I'd love to try _boring_ again. I'm getting tired of all the excitement. Every time I see you the world ends. This-morning was too pleasant and easy, I should have known something dramatic was about to happen'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles softly.  
  
'I'd like to try boring too. As much as we can anyway with our arrangement'.  
  
Jiyong remembers. Hyeong-bae. Other life. Mistress.  
  
'For a while I actually forgot about that'.  
  
Seunghyun slides a coffee across the counter, nudging his elbow with the mug.  
  
'No more drama,' he says.  
  
Jiyong sits up.  
  
'I don't think you have the authority to make that kind of promise but okay. No more drama'.  
  
He takes a tentative sip of the proffered coffee and puts the mug back down.  
  
'This is disgusting. What is this? Some fancy coffee from _Arugula?'_  
  
Seunghyun laughs and almost spits out his drink.  
  
'Arugula is a herb, not a Country'.  
  
'Oh my god,' Jiyong answers, swinging off the stool. 'I'm going to _The Coffee Bean'._  
  
'I thought we said no drama?'  
  
'This isn't drama. This is a matter of survival. Your coffee is undrinkable,' Jiyong answers. 'Besides, I should be going anyway, I've stayed too long'.  
  
They both share a wistful look, both wondering _what if?_ What if he didn't have to leave? How would they spend the day if they were free?  
  
'Alright,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong rounds the partition into the kitchen. He kisses Seunghyun on the cheek and tugs lightly on the front of his shirt.  
  
'Are you going to be okay?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'Are you sure? It's been a hell of a morning'.  
  
'It has,' Seunghyun answers, 'but I'm fine. Go home. It's okay'.  
  
'Alright. I'll call you later or--- maybe tomorrow. I can't always get away to call'.  
  
'I know'.  
  
When they part ways at the door, Jiyong kisses him. He tries to regain some of that feeling from their morning in bed and it comes back, mostly. He wants this to work out, despite all the reasons it may not. He wants to relive this morning a hundred times, stopping before the moment Seunghyun's mother makes herself known. He wants to have boring moments with Seunghyun. He wants to be around when Seunghyun tells him he's reached _30 days sober_ again. He wants everything to be okay.  
  
'Next time I come over buy some food so we can eat together,' Jiyong pleads. 'And some _normal_ coffee'.  
  
'What is _normal_ coffee?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'Anything an office worker can afford, okay? Anything _you_ wouldn't normally buy. Stop being so pretentious about what goes in your face. It all comes out the same'.  
  
'I'm very glad those are our parting words today. Thank-you. Thanks a lot'.  
  
Jiyong prods Seunghyun lightly in the stomach and heads down the stairs.  
  
'I'll see you soon'.  


  
  
  
* * *  
  


  
  
On the way home Jiyong tries to decompress. It's become a tradition almost, having to unwind in the car from aggravating situations. How did he get from their explosive bullshit fight yesterday to fucking Seunghyun this morning like a pre-teen in love to watching his mother emotionally destroy him?  
  
He thinks about Seunghyun's declaration in the kitchen and prays to God they can manage it. _No More Drama_ sounds like a one-way ticket to heaven. If he could have the first half of their morning together or even the conversation they had last night in bed, talking about little things forever--- it would sustain him for a lifetime. That's all he needs. Maybe when he was younger all this excitement would have made him feel alive. Now it has the opposite effect.  
  
He stops at _The Coffee Bean_ on the way home and grabs a weird latte on a whim. Back in the car he checks the visor mirror and catalogues a decades worth of wrinkles and imperfections accrued in a neat twelve month period. He's had bags beneath his eyes for months. Maybe they're just a part of his face now. He grimaces at the prospect.  
  
He thinks about the other thing Seunghyun said in the Kitchen.  
  
_Our arrangement._  
  
The arrangement they made yesterday as an alternative to lesser, more unbearable options. The arrangement where Jiyong goes home the way he is now and faces Hyeong-bae, the guy he's been seeing for _a year_ and smiles through a lifetime of lies in advance.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
When he reaches his apartment he sits in his car and drinks his shitty latte. It's about as nice as Seunghyun's home brewed dirt water. He doesn't want to go inside yet. He doesn't know what to say or do. How to act. People cheat all the time and get away with it, how hard can it be?  
  
Even thinking that makes his insides shrivel up. He doesn't want to be that person. He doesn't want to live like this. If he does, _No More Drama_ won't ever happen for him. He will always be afraid of being found out, he will always feel guilty, always feel--- bad.  
  
Hyeong-bae deserves better and so does Seunghyun.  
  
It's not easy to say _goodbye_. He doesn't think he can do it. He doesn't want to do it.  
  
He saw a program once about a man who had an accident. Every time he woke up his life was different. In the one life his son was dead, in the other life his daughter. In a way his kids were both alive and dead at once. He could have them both but never at the same time. In each of his lives Doctors tried to convince him the other life was a delusion.  
  
He feels like that. A bit.  
  
Maybe that's what this can be. Already, he feels like the time he spends with Hyeong-bae and the time he spends with Seunghyun are two disparate lives. Totally separate. Maybe if he maintains the divide, things will be okay.  
  
He never finished that show, he never found out how it ended, which life was the authentic life and which the dream.  
  


  
*

 

 

 

Hyeong-bae meets him in the hall after he's kicked his shoes off and thrown his empty cup in the trash. Jiyong is surprised by the sheer weight of his guilt at seeing Hyeong-bae's smile. It hits him so hard he keeps distance between them.  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't notice.  
  
'When you said you were pulling an all-nighter, I didn't think you meant a full day. You've been gone almost twenty-four hours'.  
  
'Sorry,' Jiyong simpers. 'I haven't felt like that in a while, I didn't want to waste it'.  
  
_My mojo. My passion for music,_ Jiyong thinks. _What a joke._  
  
'How did it go? Did you create a masterpiece?'  
  
'I don't know,' he answers quietly. 'Only time will tell'.  
  
He picks an envelope off the table and tries to guess which bill it is. He needs a distraction. _How much water have I wasted this month? How much electricity by keeping all the lights on?_ He tears the end off the envelope and freezes.  
  
Hyeong-bae's arms fold around his waist from behind. It takes real effort to relax in his arms but Jiyong does it. He smiles and leans back and tries to behave the way he would if he hadn't just fucked somebody else.  
  
'What did you get up to while I was gone?' he asks.  
  
Hyeong-bae tightens his hold. His hands meet around Jiyong's middle and Jiyong lays a hand over them like a loving partner.  
  
'Not much,' Hyeong-bae answers. 'I slept mostly. I only woke up an hour ago'.  
  
Jiyong feels a kiss on the top of his head and then something very different. All at once, Hyeong-bae goes still against him. He just--- stops. He changes. Without him saying a single word, the mood changes. Jiyong realises what it is and his stomach sinks. His heart pounds in his chest and his entire body floods with fear. Hyeong-bae _smells his hair._ It's almost unnoticeable but he does it sometimes and Jiyong's become accustomed to it. He knows what it _feels_ like.  
  
Hyeong-bae releases him and takes a few steps off to the side.  
  
_I showered at Seunghyun's. I used his shampoo. I didn't think. How could I wash my hair if I was at work all night? Why did I use his fruity Lavender smelling shit? It smells like a woman’s shampoo._  
  
'What's the matter?' Jiyong asks, as if he doesn't know the answer. Typically, Hyeong-bae smiles in answer as if nothing is amiss.  
  
'Nothing. Everything's fine,' he says.  
  
Jiyong tries to suppress his panic and smiles back.  
  
'Alright'.  
  
Hyeong-bae yawns unconvincingly and says he might take a nap, as if he didn't just say he woke up an hour ago. Jiyong tries to act casual and _innocent_. He tries not to panic when he thinks he sees a seed of doubt on Hyeong-bae's face.  
  
_He doesn't suspect anything.  
  
You're paranoid._  
  
When Hyeong-bae is out of sight, Jiyong covers his face and wonders if this is what his life will become if he doesn't do the right thing. He feels a pressing shame and self-loathing for doing what he has. He wants to follow Hyeong-bae and assuage his fears because he _cares_ about him. He does. He doesn't want him to be unhappy. The _feeling_ when he pulled away was horrible. Jiyong craves his touch. He has felt it for too many months to be suddenly cut off. He wants to go back and enjoy that hug for what it was, when he was too wrapped up in his guilt to be thankful for Hyeong-bae's simple affection.  
  
_I'm going to ruin our lives._  


  


 


	26. Chapter 26

 

  
It's hot. It's really hot. Even with the air conditioning on Jiyong feels his skin stick to the leather seat. It's psychosomatic but he feels it. There were heat lines on the road, little mirages on the horizon. The heat makes him feel sick. It's one thing to sweat by a pool or on a yacht; doing mundane tasks is another. Not that visiting Seunghyun is a mundane task exactly, but he has been sitting outside the villa for ten minutes, unwilling to open the car door to the sweltering heat outside. Love conquers all, it just conquers less effectively once the temperature hits 35.  
  
Jiyong can't remember being so hot in Seoul.  
  
He slumps down in his seat and closes his eyes. The vents shooting cool air into his face are sucking the moisture out of his skin. Another five minutes and he'll be a chilled but desiccated husk. He bares his teeth in a wide grin but can't feel his face. He wonders if this is what botox feels like, more than his own sporadic touch ups.  
  
He turns off the engine and swings the door open. A wave of oppressive heat washes over him, so thick he could swim in it.  
  
Things only get worse when there's no answer at Seunghyun's front door. At the top of the stairs, Jiyong drops into a crouch and tries to remember that old adage, _warm air rises_. It must be cooler near the concrete. He wants to lay down and die. He wants to kill Seunghyun for not answering the door or for not being home. Whichever of the two. They had plans _,_ inasmuch as 'doing nothing together,' constituted plans. So, where is he?  
  
For two weeks, 'doing nothing together,' has been their modus operandi. No outings, no elaborate activities, no sex. Nada. Instead, they have watched TV and talked and taken naps like old men.  
  
In a fit of responsibility, Jiyong thought some self-imposed celibacy might be in order lest it came to light his dick was making all his decisions. Two weeks later, he doesn't feel any different. Much as he'd like to relieve his current tension, it's complicated. Without sex, his guilt abates. It makes his days with Seunghyun feel less like a betrayal and his nights with Hyeong-bae less of a provocation. If he doesn't fuck either one of them, it doesn't feel so much like cheating. If he doesn't fuck either one of them it's not really cheating at all.  
  
Seunghyun took the no-sex rule in his stride. He didn't ask for an explanation but Jiyong got the feeling he knew it anyway. Hyeong-bae needed convincing. He needed a lie. _It's just for a week or two. It's for work! All that pent-up frustration helps me focus._  
  
Little else happens during the weeks following the big-bad explosion between Seunghyun and his mother. Most importantly, Jiyong's own mother doesn't ask him when he started fucking men, so Seunghyun's assurances about the big secret staying _hush hush_ seem true enough. Seunghyun doesn't talk to his own mother in the two weeks following their argument but he does reach two weeks sober again. It's easy enough, or so he says. Jiyong wouldn't have a clue what actually happens when he isn't there. He asks but Seunghyun doesn't answer. Whatever the situation, he seems okay when Jiyong is around. He smiles and laughs and they talk like everything is fine. Maybe it's too easy to be real but Jiyong can't do anything about that. He accepts things at face value.  
  
It makes it easier to criticise Seunghyun when he shows up late, rounding the corner of the street with heavy footfalls. Jiyong peers through the railing from his crouch on Seunghyun's landing and grimaces. He wonders if the heat has addled his brains. Surely, Choi Seunghyun did not just come into this yard in a tracksuit, dressed to the nines like a fitness nut.  
  
When Seunghyun sees him, he waves like an actor in a cereal commercial, vivacious and ready for adventure. He comes up the stairs two at a time. When he reaches the landing Jiyong grimaces doubly hard because Seunghyun stinks like he hasn't had a shower in six years.  
  
'You're _running?_ '  
  
'Not any more,' Seunghyun answers in jest. He's barely out of breath. If anything, his subtle panting is like a sex noise, not the kind of death-rattle Jiyong would spew out.  
  
'Can't you see that I'm dying? My feet have melted into the landing. Where have you _been?'_  
  
Seunghyun unzips his jacket and pouts.  
  
'Poor you,' he says. 'I've been out running'.  
  
' _Running?'_  
  
'I've been doing it for months. I used to work out in the gym at work but---' he waves his hand. 'Too many people. Too far to go'.  
  
'So nobody was _chasing_ you?'  
  
Jiyong heard the stories when Seunghyun first came back, that he went to work every day specifically to run. It was never that believable but here is the living proof. Pigs have flown. The end has come. Seunghyun has turned. Sure, he's been looking fitter over the past few months but Jiyong never saw it in progress. Even when they used to work out together on tours, it was only ever weights or resistance training. Never cardio. Never prolonged exercise. Seunghyun's dorky tracksuit, used for its actual purpose, is a betrayal. They had always been unfit together.  
  
Jiyong stands up grudgingly. His knees ache and he feels eighty years old. It's an affront that Seunghyun looks so good up close. Flushed but sexy. Again, very reminiscent of his sex-self. Jiyong wonders if he isn't just sexually frustrated. He brushes a sweaty bit of hair off Seunghyun's forehead.  
  
'You're so red. How long have you been out?'  
  
'An hour maybe? I don't know'.  
  
'A whole _hour?_ In this _heat?_ '  
  
Seunghyun only smiles.  
  
'Why are you smiling? You're one of those people now, aren't you? Exercise makes you feel good? You get up at dawn and embrace the day? You eat raw food and only drink green smoothies? Fuck. I like being lazy. Don’t make me change’.  
  
'I'm smiling because I'm happy to see you, not because I enjoy running,' Seunghyun answers. 'A bird shit on me,' he turns so Jiyong can see the faded mark on his jacket. 'And for the record, I like you the way you are. You're easy to pin down'.  
  
In one quick motion, Seunghyun closes the space between them for a chaste kiss that for Jiyong, having gone two _entire_ weeks without sex, feels like life-shattering foreplay. It takes him a few moments to recover from his surprise and the pathetic yearning he feels to pull Seunghyun back down and kiss him for aeons.  
  
'That was pretty smooth. Jogging has _changed_ you'.

  
  
  
  
*

  
  
  
Jiyong is grateful for Seunghyun's marathon-length shower. It takes that much time for him to cool down after his heady strip-down in the bedroom. Like a bond-girl exiting the ocean in reverse, Seunghyun shed his clothes and stepped into the ensuite shower like a slow-motion supermodel or the handsome star of a beer commercial. Jiyong could almost see each bead of sweat rolling down the centre of his back as he walked.  
  
Even smelling like a dozen old socks, Jiyong succumbed to his own human nature. He wanted to lick the sweat from Seunghyun's body. He wanted to fuck him on all fours and rake his fingernails down Seunghyun's back. He wanted to pull on his hair and make him beg for it.  
  
But--- celibacy. Abstaining. _Suffering._  
  
Instead, Jiyong cleans. He picks things up off the floor. Trash. Dirty clothes. Seunghyun's bedroom is a fucking mess and it gives him something to do. When Seunghyun emerges from the ensuite fifteen minutes later in a pair of briefs and nothing else, Jiyong is sorting his dirty clothes into _machine-wash, hand-wash_ and _dry clean_ piles.   
  
'For Christ's sake, can you put some clothes on?' Jiyong begs. 'You're killing me'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles but obliges. He throws on a pair of pants and a shirt before flopping down on the bed with a loud sigh. He laments his sore muscles.  
  
'That's what happens when you run. Pretty shocking,' Jiyong tells him.  
  
'Ouch. So bitter'.  
  
'I'm not bitter. You can do whatever _odious_ activities you want in your free time'. He holds his nose for dramatic effect.  
  
Seunghyun's eyes are closed but the hand on his stomach rolls up his body, slowly dragging the hem of his shirt with it until his bare stomach is just _there_. It's suitably toned and nice to look at. Obviously. Jiyong throws a dirty sweater at him.  
  
'Stop it!'  
  
Five minutes later he has been lured to the end of the bed where Seunghyun is now sitting, having fallen victim to the old, _'come here for a sec, I want to show you something,_ ' trap. Seunghyun pulls him in by the waist and holds him with firm hands around his thighs. With a dirty shirt still loosely in his hands, Jiyong tries not to get overwhelmed by the teenage display of -over-the-clothes- fondling that ensues. It's the perfect precursor to a blow job, if they were doing that sort of thing. Instead, Seunghyun pinches and pulls at his clothed ass and presses breathy kisses to his stomach through his shirt. The little blasts of warm, wet heat feel _unbelievable._  
  
Jiyong could easily cave and push Seunghyun back, get his knees up on the bed either side of him and---  
  
_Fuck._  
  
He shoves the dirty shirt in between them so the armpit is half in Seunghyun's mouth. Jiyong has to readjust his jeans on the trudging walk back to his corner.  
  
'Why are you so horny? I told you we can't do anything'.  
  
'It happens after I run. I know we can't fuck, I was just having some _fun_ with you'.  
  
Jiyong groans, exasperated.  
  
'Please _don't._ I am this fucking close,' he gestures, 'to teaching you a lesson. I have no self-control today. It's so _hot._ I don't know if I want to cry or fuck or do both at the same time'.  
  
Seunghyun looks blatantly interested but raises his hands in defeat. He settles back against the bed and crosses his legs at the ankles. Jiyong goes back to the mundane task of sorting through dirty clothes. For a moment he feels like a proper house-husband.  
  
'What are you doing with my dirty clothes?'  
  
'Sorting them'.  
  
'You know I just take everything to the dry-cleaners'.  
  
'Your briefs too?'  
  
'All of it,' he says.  
  
'You don't use your big, fancy laundry anymore?'  
  
'I never used it,' Seunghyun answers pointedly.  
  
'We lived together for _years,_ you're telling me you never washed your own clothes?'  
  
'No. Either you did them for me or I took them to the dry-cleaners'.  
  
Jiyong's jaw drops. It seems unbelievable that in five years of being in a relationship, three of those spent mostly living together, he never realised Seunghyun was incapable of washing his own things.  
  
'Why don't you wash anything?'  
  
'Because there are so many different _ways_ of washing them,' Seunghyun answers. 'If I looked at _every_ tag on everything I owned, washing would take three hours of prep time'.  
  
'That's very dramatic,' Jiyong snorts.   
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
'I'm teaching you how to wash your own clothes. You're lazy,' Jiyong continues. 'It's amazing. All my sexual frustration has gone away with this information. I feel like a parent to a witless child'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and covers his face with his hands. Jiyong makes a point of reading aloud the labels on Seunghyun's clothes including stellar descriptions of the symbols on the tags and what they mean. Seunghyun pays very little attention but he continues, hoping some of the information is absorbed. He only stops when Seunghyun speaks up.  
  
'Why are you doing this with me?'  
  
'Because you're a grown man who can't wash his own clothes?'  
  
Seunghyun smiles mutedly but his face becomes more serious suddenly.  
  
'No. I mean this _arrangement_ ,' he says, gesturing widely to suggest something bigger. It's then Jiyong realises he means _the_ arrangement. The thing they shouldn't talk about. Here and now with a pair of dirty pants in his hands.  
  
'I thought we hashed this out already. It's temporary'.  
  
'I know and we did,' Seunghyun answers. 'Let me rephrase. If this is temporary, _why_ is it? You as good as told me you and this guy were destined to break up sooner or later. Why not do it now? Wouldn't it be easier for you?'  
  
'Do you mean for _you_?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'No,' Seunghyun reiterates. 'For you. This is a big risk. Things will get hard. Maybe it's already started. It's not an easy thing to do what you're doing. No matter what happens, you'll lose'.  
  
Jiyong baulks at Seunghyun's frankness and his measured delivery. He is laying on the bed with his ankles crossed like they're still talking about dirty clothes. Jiyong doesn't know what to say. His stomach turns and his mind goes blank. He couldn't answer if he wanted to. He has thought about these things and tried not to think about them.  
  
'You don't have to talk about it,' Seunghyun says knowingly. 'I just wanted to ask. I don't expect anything from you. I'm just asking because I'm curious. I just want to know what you're thinking,' he says. 'You know Youngbae will back in less than two weeks. I think you're going to find it hard to manage, living so many different lives'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach jumps a second time at the mention of Youngbae's name. He knew the others were getting out soon but the date snuck up on him. Somehow, the thought of having he and Daesung back is terrifying. Maybe Seunghyun is right. Having Youngbae back will complicate things. Somehow, it will throw off the delicate balance. His tower of cards will collapse.  
  
_But I miss him._  
  
'Are you worried about me?' Jiyong asks instead.  
  
'I'm always worried about you'.  
  
Jiyong huffs quietly. Seunghyun's sincerity is frustrating. Which isn't to say he'd prefer an argument; he's had enough of those for one lifetime. Their loose pact of _no more drama_ is something he wants to uphold. It's just-- how _can_ they if Seunghyun asks questions like this?   
  
'Here I was thinking cheating was a walk in the park,' Jiyong says derisively. 'It's already hard but I have my reasons'.  
  
'Tell me some'.  
  
'They're _private'._  
  
Seunghyun gives him a knowing glance but doesn't say anything. Jiyong is aware that his reasons affect everybody so privacy doesn't really apply. All the same he thought his pleas for time would buy him more than two weeks of peace.  
  
He's been compartmentalising. It's been shamefully easy to cleave his life right down the middle. Easy to sever off the unwanted half when he isn't living it. When he's with Seunghyun, he's with him completely. With Hyeong-bae, he is the same. The guilt only catches up to him when he's in between the two or on his own; in those moments of transitioning from one life to the other.  
  
He hasn't given thought to all the reasons why he's doing this. The aching, gnawing thing in his gut telling him what to do had so far seemed enough. There are a dozen reasons probably and none at all. It's not something you decide with reason.  
  
All the same, Seunghyun watches him patiently for that kind of answer. A list of pros and cons that explains his decision, not because he's judging or regretting saying _yes_ to the arrangement, but because he wants to know. Sorting through Seunghyun's dirty clothes, Jiyong tries to put into words the mess of feelings that are making his decisions right now.   
  
He opens his mouth and hopes something rational comes out.  
  
'For starters, he loves me and I don't want him to feel the way I felt when you and I split up. I don't want to hurt him like that. He hasn't done anything. If you weren't here?' Jiyong says, leaving the obvious unspoken. 'I just can't do it. Not yet'.  
  
'I understand that'.  
  
'I like him and I like having someone around,' Jiyong continues. 'I can't go back to an empty house on the days you're not up to seeing me. Two or three days a week should be enough but it's not. I would go home and I would feel so alone if he wasn't there'.  
  
'What does it matter if you're alone for a while? It never bothered you in the past'.  
  
'Things change,' Jiyong answers. 'I'm used to constant company and attention. When I don't have it, I feel aimless. Like a speck of dust.'  
  
'That's worrying'.  
  
He shrugs.  
  
'I've always been like this. It was never that noticeable because I was always busy. I hardly had five minutes of peace in ten years. I'm used to people. I've never had so much free time before. The most time I've ever spent alone was when you went away and I was miserable for all of it. I haven't had good experiences with being on my own'.  
  
'You just haven't had _enough_ experiences'.  
  
'Maybe. I know you're the expert. You duck out on people any chance you get. You've always been like that. I've always been the opposite. It is what it is'.  
  
'I can be with people if I need to though'.  
  
_'Sometimes,_ ' Jiyong corrects him. 'Are you giving me shit for not wanting to be alone when you disappeared for a whole year just so you could be?'  
  
'No,' Seunghyun answers. 'I'm not giving you shit'.  
  
_'Good'._  
  
Jiyong spares a look back and is surprised by Seunghyun's face. He's staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He looks perfectly calm. Even weeks ago, the mere mention or allusion of Hyeong-bae would make his jaw go tight. He would be discomfited so easily. Now he's fine. Maybe he feels like he's already won the fight. It's easy to be gracious and understanding when you think you're the victor.  
  
'I would miss him,' Jiyong says sincerely. He wants Seunghyun to understand this arrangement with Hyeong-bae isn't out of spite. 'If he left, I would _miss_ him. I can't just make my feelings _go away._ Knowing he and I won't grow old and die together doesn't make it any easier or any more of a choice to slam the door in his face. I owe him more than that, for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being he saved my l--' Jiyong cuts himself off in the knick of time but Seunghyun knows exactly what he was going to say.  
  
A slip up.  
  
'Your life?' Seunghyun finishes. He props himself up on his elbows, suddenly more invested in the conversation than he was before. Jiyong nods in answer and turns away. He continues folding. He's grateful he has something to do with his hands. The cream shirt he picks up next is new. He's never seen it before. Thom Browne.  
  
'Is this from the new collection?' he asks, holding it out in front of him.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't allow them to become derailed.  
  
'You're talking about that night you drank too much? You told me one of Xin's friends helped you. Is the guy you're dating one of Xin's friends?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'You lied earlier?'  
  
'Of course I lied. I'm a liar now. I do it all the time,' Jiyong answers, tossing the shirt into the dry-cleaning pile.  
  
'So what happened?' Seunghyun asks. 'Who is this guy? How did you meet? Were you already seeing each other when he saved you?'  
  
Jiyong sighs pointedly and pulls a forest green sweater from the basket. No remorse. No stress. No panic. It might be Seunghyun's sincerity or his breezy, calm attitude today. Jiyong just tells the truth.  
  
'The story I told you is still true, Seunghyun. I just fudged his identity. I knew him from before. From when I was a kid. We met at a bar one night and drank and caught up and I drank too much. He got me home and helped me out. That's it'.  
  
'And you started dating after that? Did you feel indebted to him? Is that what you mean when you say you owe him?'  
  
Seunghyun says that like he wants it to be true, a flicker of tentative understanding at last. Their relationship is built on debt. It's easier that way than to believe they like each other.  
  
'It wasn't like that,' Jiyong answers. 'John saved _your_ life. Did you feel obligated to date him because of it? Anyway, we didn't date for months. We were just friends. I needed help and he was somebody I could talk to and be a mess around without worrying about my image. There was nobody else to call. I didn't want any of my friends to see me the way I was. He was different. He was a nobody. That was nice. He moved in and slept in the spare room a few nights a week. He was just a roommate for a long time'.  
  
'So what happened? What changed?'  
  
Jiyong scoffs quietly.  
  
'I don't know. Time? I got lonely. I started going on dates with women. I must have gone out with every woman in Seoul. Never got so far as a kiss. None of them were you. Some of them were nice but,' he shrugs, ' _you know'._  
  
'Sure'.  
  
'So, I went on all these dates,' Jiyong continues, 'and then he moved out suddenly. He stopped coming around. He wouldn't answer my calls. Eventually I went to his apartment and asked him what I'd done. He said nothing, _I have to work some stuff out. Leave me alone._ That kind of thing. So I did'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't say anything.  
  
'One day I'm getting ready for a date and he's back. It's been weeks. He sits on my couch and doesn't say a word. Things get a little---'  
  
Seunghyun raises his brow.  
  
'Turns out he had big fat crush on me,' Jiyong continues. 'I forgot to mention he was straight right? Because he was, or he thought he was. I guess I was too irresistible,' he jests, 'because all my dates pissed him off. He was jealous. He _liked me_ liked me. It was difficult after that. Weird'.  
  
'I'm sure. What did you do?'  
  
'I begged him to stay with me,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'He'd helped me so much, just being around, I think part of me thought I would die if he left. I would have nobody. All that progress I'd made since he came along would disappear'.  
  
His throat tightens. In little ways he had tried to tell Seunghyun before how bad things really were in those first few months but he couldn't ever quite explain it. It felt selfish to try and explain his misery when Seunghyun was plotting his own demise, so steeped was he in his own.  
  
'I wasn't doing good,' Jiyong urges. He wants Seunghyun to understand him, understand how bad and horrible and insurmountable things felt. 'I was scared to leave the house. I couldn't walk into the shop at the bottom of my building, I couldn't do _anything_. Little things made me panic. I wanted to stay in bed until I died. I don't know what happened to me,' he says. ' _He_ made me go out. Nobody else. Just him. Suddenly I could walk around again. I could buy groceries like a normal person. He helped me. He made me laugh. When I thought he was going to leave? I panicked'.  
  
'So he stayed with you?'  
  
'Yeah. It wasn't easy. It wasn't like when you and I got together. When I realised I liked you for the first time It wasn't a big deal. I was attracted to you and I liked to impress you. I liked your attention. It never felt weird or strange or wrong. The night we really kissed for the first time, it was bizarre but it was fine? I sort of felt like--- _'okay? This happened. I don't feel bad about it. I kind of want to do it again'._  
  
'He wasn't like that?'  
  
'No. Being gay or bisexual or whatever he thought he was--- it drove him crazy. He didn't want to like me. I think he blamed me. He thought I'd done something to him'.  
  
Jiyong turns back to the clothes in front of him and folds a shirt through his fingers. He can't stop talking. With each word, a weight lifts.  
  
'One day he stopped being like that. He just got over it. He changed. He took me on dates. He was nice. Thoughtful. He made me feel like a normal person again'.  
  
'What about you? Did you like him after he changed? Or did you keep up the lie because you felt like you needed him?'  
  
Jiyong sighs.  
  
'I didn't like him _that way_. I told him I did so he would stay, but I didn't. It took a while for me to have those feelings. Until then, I just pretended. I lied'.  
  
Not for the first time, Jiyong feels specific guilt press down on him. Admitting it out loud makes it worse somehow. Telling another human being what he did makes it feel like a real mistake, not just a page from his past.  
  
'Can I ask you something personal?' Seunghyun asks, still calm and breezy.  
  
'Was this not personal already? Can this get _more_ invasive?'  
  
'It can'.  
  
'Well you can try,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'When did you first fuck?' Seunghyun asks bluntly. 'If he thought he was straight before you-- how did that happen?'  
  
'The way it always does _,'_ Jiyong replies, irritated. 'I'm not going to talk about _sex_ with you.’  
  
'What about the timeline?'  
  
'Why does that matter?'  
  
'You asked me about my own. It was the first thing you asked when I told you I'd fucked other people'.  
  
'Yeah, and I regretted that or don't you remember? I didn't want to know that. You don't either, trust me'.  
  
'I kind of do'.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head. How much have they endured together for Seunghyun to listen to everything he just said and still look so serene; so at peace with what's already happened? How can he want to know _more?_  
  
'Why do you want to know?' Jiyong asks seriously. 'No bullshit. We shouldn't be talking at all. I was never going to tell you this stuff'.  
  
Seunghyun, still laying on the bed like a tourist at a beach, rolls his head so they're facing one another. He talks with simple sincerity, like they've both aged fifty years and the time for anything else has long since passed.  
  
'Honestly? Sometimes it keeps me up at night wondering what happened to you when I was gone. Not knowing how you and this guy got together? I come up with a dozen scenarios each night and they're always horrible. I hate them. I hate thinking about it all the time. I hate not knowing. I actually feel better hearing you talk about it. I don't have to wonder anymore'.  
  
Jiyong can understand that. He spent long nights conjuring up awful scenarios about Seunghyun's time away.  
  
'So?' Seunghyun asks. 'When did you two--- _you know'._  
  
Jiyong grimaces and clutches the shirt in his hand more tightly. It's one thing to talk about how they started dating but fucking? How much honesty is too much? Where is the line he has to cross to cause irreparable damage?  
  
'Seunghyun, If I tell you the truth and it causes problems or we have a fight, I will lose it. I can't take any more bullshit. I really can't'.  
  
'I swear on my life none of that will happen,' Seunghyun urges, his hands raised in supplication. 'If it hasn't happened already, I think we're safe. This has been an odd conversation and we're doing fine’.  
  
'This is _different_ ,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'Why is it?'  
  
Jiyong huffs and pushes the shirt down into the basket.  
  
'Because it was after you came back,' he says. 'After I found out you were home.'  
  
Seunghyun's eyes widen in surprise. For the first time since they started this volley of truth bombs, he looks genuinely taken back. As if during those nights he lay awake imagining each worst-case scenario, this one never occurred to him. Jiyong feels guilty for telling the truth but Seunghyun _asked_ for it and as he confesses, old hurts and feelings reignite.  
  
'Seungri told me a week after you came home,' Jiyong says. 'You were twenty minutes away but you hadn't called me or tried to see me. Up until that moment I think I still felt like we could go back to the way we were. If you approached me the right way, with a good explanation, I would forgive you. We would be okay'.  
  
Seunghyun looks pensive.  
  
'When he told me you were back?' Jiyong says. 'When he told me that you called him sometimes when you were away? When I got nothing from you? That sucked. I was so fucking _angry_ with you. All that time you were gone I thought you had closed yourself off to everybody but it was just me.'  
  
He shrugs like it's all over with; a painful memory, mostly forgotten. Talking about it, he realises it isn't. The pain lingers, even now.  
  
'It was a few days after that,' Jiyong confesses. 'I had sex with him to spite you'.  
  
He realises that as the words slip out.  
  
Spite wasn't the whole motivation, maybe only a little but it was a component. Of course he had real feelings for Hyeong-bae at that point. He wanted them to be together. He wanted love. He wanted intimacy and security and release. But he also wanted Seunghyun to hurt. He wanted him instinctively to know the exact _moment_ it happened; wanted him, wherever he was, to feel it and be hurt by it.  
  
'Not _just_ for that reason,' Jiyong reassures him. 'But that night, you and me were done. You wanted us to be dead to each other so I made it happen. I exorcised you,' he says, tapping his chest. 'I needed to'.  
  
Seunghyun looks glum and a bit upset at long last but Jiyong can't stop. Seunghyun wanted the truth so Jiyong _tells_ it. It is so cathartic to speak up, to really explain what it was like and how he felt. It's the only possible way for Seunghyun to understand why their arrangement is what it is. Why he can't just pick a side on a whim and face the consequences.  
  
'I felt like I would _die_ if I waited for you any longer,' Jiyong tells him. 'When you were gone, I kept making these resolutions and promises to myself. I must have told myself a thousand times, _Finally, I'm over it. We're done. Forever._ I would think that every few weeks. I would say, _it's time to move on. He left. It's finished'._  
  
Seunghyun frowns.  
  
'But it wasn't. Ever. I was still telling myself that a few weeks ago,' Jiyong says. 'When we first slept together after you came back, I woke up the next morning and you were cold and distant and I thought, _God. This is it, this time. For real! We're fucking done! I'm not going to do this anymore, I'm shutting the door!_ And look how long that lasted'.  
  
He sighs and shrugs.  
  
'When me and him slept together the first time, it was like that. You were back and I realised I was still fucking _waiting_ for you. No matter how many times I told myself _it's over,_ it wasn't. I had this great guy in my life who was focussed on me and who wanted to love me and who was always there for me but I was _still_ waiting for you. You didn't want me anymore but there I was, sabotaging any chance I had with anyone else because it was always about you. I couldn't move on. It was never fucking over. After a year of nothing, I was still expecting you to fix it. Finding out you were home and hadn't done that made me feel sad and pathetic and stupid. I wanted to be rid of you. I wanted to cut off that part of me that was always _waiting_ for you. I wanted to move on'.  
  
'Did it help?'  
  
'Did it make me feel better?' Jiyong answers. 'Yeah. Because then me and him? We were good. He made me feel like I was loved and needed and wanted. Like I didn't have to spend the rest of my life waiting for somebody to love me because I already had it. Did it help me move on from _you?_ No. I wouldn't be here if it had'.  
  
'Are you still waiting for me?' Seunghyun asks seriously.  
  
'Maybe,' Jiyong answers. 'But now you're waiting for me too'.  
  
In the silence that follows, the room itself seems to release a long-held breath. Jiyong is painfully aware that nothing he just admitted to can ever be unheard or unsaid. Neither of them speak. Jiyong goes back to sorting the remainder of Seunghyun's clothes, not sure what he should or even could say next. Seunghyun stays quiet. It isn't until minutes later, when Jiyong throws the final shirt in the hand-wash pile and sits on the side of the bed that Seunghyun talks to him.  
  
'That's a lot to think about,' he says.  
  
Jiyong watches him, surprised to find that glum face disappear once more behind a calm facade. Maybe this is part of his new zen self. Accept the things you cannot change. One of the twelve steps.  
  
Seunghyun grabs him arm and tugs on it.  
  
'Lay down with me'.  
  
He does what Seunghyun asks and lies down next to him. He lets Seunghyun slide an arm beneath him and pull him over, half onto his chest where he rests his head. It's a sweet gesture. It makes him feel like the world isn't ending.  
  
'Can I say something?' Seunghyun asks. Without waiting for an answer he kisses the top of Jiyong's head. His jaw sits somewhere in his messy hair and he squeezes his arm. 'I love you,' he says. 'I'm sorry I didn't try to fix what I did to you. When I came back and ignored you, I saw I was hurting you and I kept doing it. I didn't have the foresight to even think up an excuse to make you feel better. I'm sorry I messed things up so badly you felt you had to _exorcise_ me'.  
  
Jiyong sighs. There's no real way to answer that. He can't say _I forgive you_ , because he doesn't. It isn't that kind of situation. He just understands. Understanding isn't the same as forgiving.  
  
'I understand why this arrangement is what it is,' Seunghyun says.  
  
'Do you?' Jiyong asks.  
  
With his cheek over Seunghyun's chest, he can feel his pulse faintly through his shirt. It's a bad time to speak but he has to.  
  
'I know you've been through some shit Seunghyun, God knows I only know 5% of what really happened to you and is still happening to you but knowing now isn't the same as it would have been earlier. Knowing what happened to us and why you were treating me like that doesn't change that it happened or that for an entire _year_ , I suffered because of you. This guy? He was the only good thing I had left.  
  
_Loving_ you and being glad to have you back doesn't erase everything he's done for me or the feelings I've had for him. It's not something I can switch off in a week and even if I could, he deserves better than that.  
  
I lured him into this relationship with me. I lied a hundred times to make him stay. I wanted him to be invested in me. I wanted him to look after me. I wanted him to forget about his own life and only care about mine. And now it's like that, mostly. He loves me. I cajoled him into it. I encouraged him. He deserved better than what I did to him. He deserves better now.  
  
I owe him more than _stomping_ on his feelings because you're back in my life and we're okay right now. I like him too much to hurt him like that. If you looked me in the eye right now and told me to leave him or you and I would be over, I couldn't do it. You don't _do_ that to people'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs and rolls off Seunghyun's chest.  
  
'You don't do what I'm doing _now_ either but it feels like the lesser of two evils. At least for the moment. I don't know how to do anything else yet. I have to figure out the right way to deal with things. This arrangement is all I can do for now. Next week I might not feel the same but _right now?_ '  
  
'I get it,' Seunghyun answers, tugging him back into a hug. 'I do'.  
  
'And you still want to hug me?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'I want to do more than hug you but I'm settling for less,' Seunghyun answers, squeezing his shoulder. 'I love you. I couldn't stop if I tried. Fuck, I know I haven't done anything for you since I came back'.  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'I haven't given you a reason to trust me,' Seunghyun answers. 'I haven't given you the excuse you wanted that would make everything okay. All I've done is tell you _I love you_ and I know that's not enough. With him you have a chance at something easy. There's security, I understand that. With me? It's uncertainty. I love you but I can't make you big promises about the future. Not yet'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't say anything. It's not exactly untrue. There have been no promises, no commitments, no plans, only _I love you's_ and at the end of the day, that isn't always enough. They're almost thirty years old. When do plans and stability become more important than passion?  
  
'When I ask you things, you tell me the truth. Even if you don't want to. I don't return the favour. You ask me about things and I shut you down because it's uncomfortable for me,' Seunghyun says. 'That's not really fair, I know'.  
  
'So what?'  
  
'So let me make some small attempts to even things out,' Seunghyun says gingerly. ‘I’ll try and do better. I want to make it easier for you to make the decision you have to make. Give me time’.  
  
  


  
*  
  
  
  


Despite everything Jiyong admitted and confessed, nothing changes between them at all. It's baffling but comforting. They might actually have reached the point of no return. That point where no drama will ever seem so bad again. They've simply faced the worst of it and now everything else is easy by comparison.   
  
For the next few hours, they watch TV like they have been for weeks. Seunghyun pulls out the wii and they even have a few games which all end pretty suddenly when a fight over a controller lands them both on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Turns out having a big gruesome conversation about _the other man_ doesn't dampen their physical needs after two measly weeks of abstinence.  
  
It's a joke, really. They've easily gone long periods without sex before, not including the forced separation of Japan et al. There's just something about the _heat_ outside that makes abstaining particularly hard. That and the dazed flashbacks of last time. The problem for Jiyong is that his compartmentalising is too effective. It's too easy.

On the floor of Seunghyun's lounge room, sprawled on top of him trying to get the remote out of his outstretched hand--- Jiyong _wants_ things. He wants to fuck Seunghyun--- but not fuck him exactly. He wants to lay him down and undress him slowly. He wants to kiss every inch of his skin and work out every knot and bit of tension left behind. He wants to work on him until Seunghyun is a pliable, pleading mess and he wants to fuck him _slowly_. He wants to fuck him deep and steady until he's begging to cum-- and then he wants to make him cum, over and over again.  
  
Those are the thoughts Jiyong has on the lounge room floor until he gathers the necessary strength to put a stop to their mindless rutting on the carpet.  
  
After that, their day together is well and truly over. It has to be. Seunghyun groans like a man who's been shot and Jiyong has to sit near the front door in a self-imposed time-out until his erection is gone so he can brave the fiery outdoors to get back to his car.  
  
When they say goodbye from opposite ends of the room, Jiyong can't resist.  
  
'Think about me when you jerk off'.  
  
Seunghyun flips him off and disappears up the hall.  
  
Jiyong wonders how long his celibacy can really last.

 

 

*  
  
  


On the drive home, he finds himself in that in-between place where the guilt becomes a crushing burden and his two separate lives become one again. He wonders if everything he said to Seunghyun was true. Was any of it? Waiting at a red light, he talks to himself to release some tension.  
  
_'Maybe_ everything I said is an excuse and I'm just waiting for the situation to resolve itself on its own. _Maybe_ I'm hoping that I'll enlist and one of them will get tired of me while I'm gone, solving this problem without me having to hurt anybody. A slow fizzling out'.  
  
The light turns green.  
  
With his foot on the accelerator, this simpler theory feels very real.  


  
  
* * *  


  
  
Hyeong-bae gets home two hours after him when Jiyong is face-down on the couch watching a documentary. He can't find the remote so he resigns himself to an informative spiel about the reproductive habits of woodland birds. He barely has a chance to get up before Hyeong-bae is standing in front of the television with his arms out in front of him. He doesn't say hello. He almost ran from the front door so he could say this all the faster.  
  
'Look what I learned today. I'm a fucking _savant'_.  
  
Jiyong drags himself up and tucks his feet beneath him on the lounge. He watches in stunned amazement as Hyeong-bae pulls a pack of cards out of nowhere. Things only get weirder as he fans them out in front of his face like a magician from the TV.  
  
'Pick a card,' he says.  
  
'Oh my God,' Jiyong murmurs, pulling one out.  
  
'Now pick another'.  
  
Jiyong does as he's told. Hyeong-bae tells him to memorise them as if remembering two separate cards is a particularly difficult feat, then he's tasked with putting them back in the deck before shuffling them. This _is_ difficult. Jiyong almost drops them in his lap five times before giving up.  
  
'They're _shuffled'._  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs at his clumsiness and waves a hand over the deck for dramatic effect. Jiyong rolls his eyes and wonders what fresh hell he stumbled into for this to be happening to him.  
  
'Pull two cards out,' Hyeong-bae directs him.  
  
Jiyong does what he asks and his jaw drops to find the same two cards he pulled out earlier. He flips over Hyeong-bae's hand to find a normal deck of cards. All numbers, all kinds, not just the two he picked up repeated over and over.  
  
'How the fuck---'  
  
'I know. I'm David Blaine'.  
  
'Where were you today? Magic camp?'  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs and flops down on the couch beside him. He throws the deck of cards on the coffee table and relaxes.  
  
'There was a delay today and we had three hours of sitting around. One of the guys does magic tricks. He taught me some things. I was bored'.  
  
Jiyong can't help but laugh.  
  
'Well you know, I learned something today too'.  
  
'Oh yeah?'  
  
'Did you _know_ ,' Jiyong leans in, as if imparting a valuable secret, 'that some birds eat twice their weight in food every day?'  
  
Hyeong-bae shoves his face away and groans.  
  
'That's so boring I almost fell asleep listening to you. Have you been sitting here all day watching bird documentaries?'  
  
'Something like that'.  
  
'Go back to work, honestly. You're going to have to try harder to compete with my talents now. These boring factoids aren't going to cut it with a magician in the house'.  
  
Jiyong snorts.  
  
'Please stop talking. Go have a shower. Leave me with my birds'.  
  
Hyeong-bae does as he's told, stopping briefly to kiss him on the way past. Jiyong smiles into it, genuinely glad to live a life where he can be surprised by impromptu and unasked for magic shows. For a brief moment though he feels a stab of shame. The pent-up frustrations that made him yearn for Seunghyun earlier haven't completely fizzled out. When Hyeong-bae kisses him, it's nice. He wants to pull him down and kiss him for hours.  
  
When Hyeong-bae moves on, Jiyong feels a little sick for the first time. He wonders if there isn't something wrong with him after all.   
  


  
*

  
  
  
While Hyeong-bae is in the bathroom, Jiyong searches for the remote. After a certain number of bird facts, enough is enough. He is on his hands and knees looking beneath the lounge when the doorbell rings. It startles him. He can't remember the last time the doorbell rang. It would have been _months_ ago when they ordered take-out from down the street.  
  
Only neither of them have ordered anything.  
  
He pauses; waiting for a second ring to confirm someone is _actually_ there and it comes soon after. He paid big money for this apartment. Half the perks came down to the fact nobody could get to the front door without the code or buzzing up. Nobody has done either of those things. It makes him vaguely anxious.  
  
When he reaches the door, he hits the intercom and the video screen flickers on. Who he sees on the other side of the door is so unexpected it takes full seconds for him to understand. She rings the bell again and Jiyong quickly swings the door open, shooting a panicked look behind him to make sure they are alone. The second she has an opening, she tries to push her way inside. Jiyong supposes that's a family trait but he strong-arms her and steps into the hall outside.  
  
'What are you _doing_ here?'  
  
'What are _you_ doing?' she asks. 'I can't come into your home?'  
  
He shushes her and closes the door behind him. He holds her elbow as politely as he can and gestures down the hall for her to follow him. They can't stand here where Hyeong-bae can simply hit a button and see or hear them together.  
  
'I'm not leaving until I talk to you,' she says, surprised. 'What are you doing?'  
  
'We have to go to the end of the hall,' Jiyong tries to explain. 'We can't talk outside my door. I have people over, alright?'  
  
It's the first conversation they have had in months and before their last brief parley, years and years. Seunghyun's sister looks painfully like him and her presence here can only mean one thing. He faces the fact with resignation.  
  
When they get to the end of the hall, she doesn't need to say anything.  
  
'Your mother _told_ you?'  
  
'Of course she did'.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, exasperated, maybe even a little angry that his two lives are already being muddied. What he has with Seunghyun and what he has with Hyeong-bae are separate. They are _separate_. In his mind he has drawn up the walls and one isn't allowed to touch the other. They're not allowed. Seunghyun's sister isn't playing by the rules. Jiyong feels such an oppressive anger and panic at having her here.  
  
'So?'  
  
'Is that all you can say?' she answers.  
  
She doesn't look angry with him or disappointed the way Seunghyun's mother did. She looks like a sister who somehow didn't realise her brother was gay; who is surprised that Seunghyun could have led a secret life without her knowing. She looks like someone who hasn't formed a strong opinion either way. Jiyong knows this conversation with him is what will swing it. What will help her accept it or stand against it. He just doesn't want to play the game today. He doesn't want to explain himself to somebody else, somebody who shouldn't get a say. Not here and not like this; ambushed in his own home.  
  
'What am I supposed to say?' He asks quietly.  
  
'I don't know,' she answers honestly. 'It's true then? You're together? Dating?'  
  
'It's complicated,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'What does that mean?'  
  
'It means what it means. I don't mean to sound rude but it's not your business'.  
  
'He's family,' she answers. 'It is my business'.  
  
Jiyong folds his arms over his chest. He tries to remain calm and undaunted by the runaway train this supposed secret has become.  
  
'No, it's not. You want it to be because you think this affects you but it doesn't. It has nothing to do with you. Seunghyun is almost thirty years old. He can do what he likes. If you want to talk about this because you're confused or you want answers, you should be talking to him, not me. I don't understand what you're doing here or what you want me to say to you'.  
  
She mirrors his posture, folding her arms across her chest. She toes the ground for a moment before lifting her head. She sticks her jaw out like somebody indignant.  
  
'What's going to happen to him if people find out? It could destroy our entire family. His career will be over'.  
  
'What's going to happen to him if he can't be who he really is around the people he loves the most?'   
  
She visibly weakens.  
  
'A few weeks ago I picked my son up from Seunghyun's home and you were there,' she says, open ended. There's a question in there somewhere that she isn't asking.  
  
'We weren't having sex while he was babysitting if that's what you're worried about'.  
  
She cringes involuntarily at the S word and Jiyong realises that despite being told Seunghyun was gay, she hadn't really considered that side of it. Maybe in her head it just meant going on chaste dates with men or holding hands in the dark. Jiyong's sorry for saying it. He isn't trying to upset her, he's just unprepared.  
  
'Sorry,' he says quietly. 'I didn't expect anyone else to find out. Seunghyun convinced me your mother wouldn't tell anybody. Up until a few weeks ago _nobody_ knew and now it feels like the whole world knows about my private---' he sighs and _tries_ to shrug it off.  
  
'My mother was a little hazy about the details,' she says. 'Can I ask how long this has been going on?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs, uncomfortable.  
  
'I don't want to talk about this. You should talk to him, not me. This is really strange. We're all adults and this conversation doesn't need to happen’.  
  
'I just want to know a few things. Please. Seunghyun won't talk to me. I don't need to ask him anything to know what he'll say. I'm surprised. Can you please just answer some questions for me, to help me understand?'  
  
She looks very sincere albeit frustrated. Jiyong sort of understands her. He feels a little sorry for her. She wants to be angry but she doesn't know at what. She's angry that she didn't _know_. Angry that somebody she loves chose to keep her in the dark. It's obvious she doesn't have the same hang-ups that her mother does. A surprise or not, Seunghyun being gay isn't something she will ignore or try to wish away.  
  
If anything, Jiyong thinks she's just upset that as siblings they drifted apart. The way she berated him for his behaviour at their grandmother’s death, Jiyong thinks her frustration is because Seunghyun has kept her out. Because she is trapped on the outside and that's something Jiyong understands.  
  
He softens a little.  
  
'Three questions,' he says. 'And then you have to go. I have people over and I'll be missed and this is not how I want everyone else in the world to find out my big secret. If you want to know more than that, talk to Seunghyun. I don't think he'd like knowing you came to me before you spoke to him'.  
  
She agrees to his terms and asks the first predictable question.  
  
'How long?'  
  
'Six or seven years, I don't remember exactly'.  
  
This number seems to surprise her. Maybe she expected it to be a shorter number, more of a summer fling than an enduring relationship. She knows she can't ask for elaboration so she moves on.  
  
'Do you love him?'  
  
'Yes,' Jiyong answers simply.  
  
She looks away and her jaw tightens. When she turns back, her eyes are glistening. Like her mother, maybe part of her always worried for Seunghyun and what would happen to him. The lack of girlfriends or women in his life must have been a red flag pointing to a life of loneliness and misery. She looks surprised to hear he is _loved_ , not by family or fans but someone else entirely.  
  
'Okay,' she says.  
  
It takes maybe thirty seconds for her to think up the final question. Her last chance to get answers that Seunghyun is unlikely to give himself.  
  
'Is my brother happy?'  
  
Jiyong deflates.  
  
His lips part but he isn't sure what to say. It's a loaded question with an answer more complicated than he has any right to attempt. He wants to say yes but it doesn't quite come out. Then again, to say he's unhappy wouldn't be true either. She senses his hesitation and looks morose. Jiyong wants to comfort her but he isn't sure how. He doesn't lie.  
  
'It's complicated,' he says. 'He's been through some stuff lately. Some shitty, hard stuff he'll probably never tell you about so I can't either but he's trying at the moment. To fix it all? He has good and bad days,' Jiyong shrugs. 'He's happy when he's with me. I think he's doing okay'.  
  
'Christ, what does all _that_ mean?'  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
'It means you should cut him some slack when you talk to him. I know he's impossible and frustrating and when he wants to push you away, he knows the exact buttons to push and the right ways to hurt you, but he needs love and support. He could really use some family right now who are understanding and who'll love him no matter what'.  
  
She sighs deeply and Jiyong feels bad for disappointing her.  
  
'I wish I could have answered that better but things are what they are. I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you the truth. It's not my life to talk about. He's okay,' Jiyong reiterates. 'He'll be okay'.  
  
She eyes him searchingly, as if the real answers are in his face.  
  
'Maybe you could let him spend more time with your son,' Jiyong suggests. 'Take a few nights off and let Seunghyun look after him. I think he really likes that. He talks about your son all the time. He's bought a mountain of toys for him. He pretends they're for himself and that he hates babysitting but I know better'.  
  
She smiles mutedly. Jiyong isn't sure what she expected by coming here and maybe she isn't either but it wasn't this. Not exactly. Maybe no outcome was the right one.  
  
'Okay,' she answers mildly. 'Maybe I will. I'm sorry for coming here. I didn't really think about what I would say to you. I just---' she shrugs. 'I've known you since you were a teenager. This is all a little---'  
  
'Weird'.  
  
'Yes'.  
  
Jiyong smiles dully in sympathy.  
  
'I'm sorry if I haven't said the right things. You caught me off guard'.  
  
Seunghyun's sister smiles but looks ultimately just as lost as she did when she first rang the doorbell. She understands that their brief talk is over though. She lets Jiyong hit the down button on the elevator.  
  
'I'm sure I'll see you around,' Jiyong suggests weakly, when she gets into the lift. That's almost the end of it but she holds her arm out to stop the doors from closing.  
  
'I don't want him to know that I know,' she says. 'Don't tell him I know, okay? He didn't tell me for a reason. He can tell me when he's ready'.  
  
'If that's what you want,' Jiyong answers.  
  
She pulls her hand back in answer and shrugs the way confused people do when they have no other choice but to resign themselves to fate.  
  
When the doors close, she isn't looking at him anymore.  
  
  
  


*  


  
  
When he's sure the elevator is on its way down, he leans against the wall in a fit of amazement. Again. It's happened _again._ What a nightmare. Sure, it wasn't the horrible death blow it was with Seunghyun's mother, but a nightmare all the same. Another check on a list of things he never wanted to happen.  
  
He wonders if he shouldn't tell everyone he knows and get it over with. The way their secret seems to exponentially travel, it seems the easier choice. Tell Seunghyun's entire extended family and then his own. When Youngbae gets out in two weeks-time, Jiyong can tell him the whole damn story. ' _Welcome back! By the way, I'm interested in men and Seunghyun and I have had a thing going for years. How have you been for the last 18 months? Tell me everything!'_  
  
When Jiyong reaches the front door, he's ready to immerse himself in that bird documentary. The animal kingdom seems a whole lot easier than his own life. He wants to watch bird drama for hours to numb his brain. When he opens the door he realises that won't be possible.  
  
Hyeong-bae is standing a few feet inside with his arms across his chest and his eyes on the ground. He's leaning against the table and Jiyong knows he's heard _something_ , even if it wasn't their conversation because he and Seunghyun's sister were too far away. The mood in the room makes him feel sick from the first second. His heart starts racing before either of them have made a sound.  
  
'Who was that?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong stammers over a few possible explanations, mad he didn't think of something before he opened the door but how could Hyeong-bae have heard _anything_? There was no need for an explanation. He was supposed to be in the shower, Jiyong heard the water running when he opened the door.  
  
'Just a friend,' he says.  
  
The look Hyeong-bae returns rends his heart in two. It's the kind of look Jiyong would expect if he knew everything, if this whole fucking mess blew up in his face but he doesn't _know_ anything. He can't.  
  
'That's your answer?'  
  
'It's the truth'.  
  
'Ah,' Hyeong-bae says, knowingly. 'Do your _friends_ always talk to you in that tone? Do you usually drag them out of sight? You sounded very panicked to find whoever it was outside'.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard.  
  
'What did you want me to do?' he asks. 'Invite her in so she could see you? So she could ask me who the guy in my bathroom is? How would I explain that? Of course I didn't let her in'.  
  
Jiyong is surprised by how easy it is to lie, how quickly plausible explanations come to him. Only Hyeong-bae doesn't find them as easy to believe as he should. It's as if this mundane doorbell incident is some Eureka moment for him.  
  
'Who is she?' Hyeong-bae shrugs. 'Are you fucking her?'  
  
Jiyong's knees go weak beneath him and he wants to scream. His explanation was good enough. Any sane, rational person would believe him. There's no reason for Hyeong-bae to think he's fucking anybody. How could they go from that idiotic magic trick to an accusation like this? Never mind that it's half true. Hyeong-bae shouldn't _know_ that. Jiyong hasn't done anything to make him believe it yet.   
  
'Are you joking?' Jiyong asks, indignant. 'Fuck you!'  
  
'It explains a lot'.  
  
'No it doesn't. You think I'm fucking some girl because I wouldn't let her in the apartment? Have you lost your mind?'  
  
'It's not just this,' Hyeong-bae answers. 'It's a lot of things'.  
  
'Like _what?_ ' Jiyong challenges him.  
  
'When you leave the house, you turn your phone off'.  
  
'So what?' he answers, stunned. 'I'm at work! I always turn my phone off at work'.  
  
'And your other phone? Do you turn that off too?'  
  
Jiyong chokes on whatever answer he was ready to give. Nothing comes out. How could he know about that? Hyeong-bae laughs quietly at his reaction, at his small victory. Jiyong almost feels the room spin.  
  
'When you were in the shower a couple of weeks ago, I heard a phone ringing but it wasn't mine and I could see yours on the bedside table,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I got up to find out where the noise was coming from and it stopped in the cupboard. You got a secret phone stashed in there?'  
  
'I have a work phone,' Jiyong answers quickly, 'and a private one. I must have left one in a pocket'.  
  
'You have a second phone but I've _never_ seen it before? That's weird, don't you think?'  
  
'No. I don't'.  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs.  
  
'The other week when you came home after an _'all-nighter at work,_ ' your hair was washed. It smelled like a woman's shampoo. A little strange, no?'  
  
'I'd been there all night. I wanted a shower. Sue me. I used what shampoo was there'.  
  
'Why didn't you wait until you came home?'  
  
'If I had known taking a shower was a _crime_ ,' Jiyong growls facetiously, 'I guess I would have waited. Next time I'll think about the consequences of my actions. Silly me for not seeing _this_ coming'.  
  
'And the no-sex rule?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong folds his arms across his chest. His words quickly tumble out, high pitched through sheer amazement and anger that this is happening, that Hyeong-bae can be so wrong and so right at the same time. He isn't sure which part is worse.  
  
'Are you suggesting I'm cheating on you because we haven't had sex in _two weeks?'_  
  
'No. We used to have amazing sex,' Hyeong-bae says. 'But you've been less and less interested. The last time we fucked it felt like it was a chore for you. You pretended to like it but you were only half there'.  
  
'Maybe our sex just isn't very good?' Jiyong laughs. 'Jesus, what do you want from me? I have to scream and thank you every time we fuck? Two weeks without sex and I must be cheating? Do you want to fuck me? Will that prove something?'  
  
Hyeong-bae looks dour.  
  
'A while ago, I asked you why we weren't having sex anymore and you shut me up by initiating it in the middle of our fight. I was drunk but I remember. You don't want to answer the question? You want to fuck to divert attention away from the problem?'  
  
'There's no _problem_ ,' Jiyong shouts. 'What the fuck are you doing? None of this is real!'  
  
Only it is real. Almost everything Hyeong-bae is saying. All these little truths that Jiyong felt he'd kept well-hidden or played down until they became inconsequential. Hyeong-bae had absorbed them all and whether his suspicions are exactly right or only partially, his doubts are justified.  
  
Jiyong is surprised by the force of his own indignation, as if he really is innocent, so much so that Hyeong-bae's accusations are a real affront. He has covered his tracks with Seunghyun and their relationship and their history for too long and tried too hard only for his relationship with Hyeong-bae to fall apart because he thinks he's off fucking some _girl._ It's only been two weeks!  
  
'Just tell the truth,' Hyeong-bae answers heatedly. 'I don't understand why you're doing this? Why are you playing with me?'  
  
This hits too close to home. Jiyong feels such a swell of remorse and shame and _love_ for Hyeong-bae in this moment, he almost tells him the truth. Almost. Instead, he feigns his own devastating hurt that Hyeong-bae could accuse him of something so horrible and he leaves the room without saying anything. He heads for the bedroom, only Hyeong-bae follows him.  
  
'Just tell me I'm right!'  
  
'You're not _right_ ,' Jiyong snaps, kicking his shoes off in the bedroom. He turns around to face Hyeong-bae and flips him off. 'Fuck you for accusing me and fuck you for thinking so little of me'.  
  
Hyeong-bae slaps Jiyong's hand away and steps closer.  
  
'Fuck _you_ for lying to my face'.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard.  
  
'Do you really think I'm cheating on you? After everything we've been through?'  
  
'Everything we've been through has felt very one sided. I think you don't need me any more so you've found somebody else. There have been too many moments where I've wondered what the hell was going on with you'.  
  
Jiyong feels such a sudden swell of unexpected anger, his arm moves independently and he tries to hit him. Hyeong-bae deflects the blow with the back of his arm and grabs Jiyong's wrist tightly. It sends a shock of pain up into his shoulder. He feels hot all over.  
  
Hyeong-bae steps forward so that Jiyong has to step back. He tries to yank his arm free but Hyeong-bae has it pressed against his chest.  
  
'You look guilty,' he says.  
  
'I look angry,' Jiyong retorts. 'Because you're pissing me off'.  
  
Hyeong-bae grips him tighter and Jiyong winces.  
  
'I've done nothing but love you,' Hyeong-bae says. 'If you want to dump me, do it. Don't play games with me. After everything I've done for you, don't lie to me'.  
  
'Let go of me'.  
  
'No. Tell me the truth. Be honest with me. No convenient answers, no bullshit excuses. The _truth_ '.  
  
'The truth,' Jiyong answers, 'is that I love you. I'm not fucking some woman when you're not around. If you don't believe me, fine, but that says more about you than it does me. Now let me go'.  
  
Hyeong-bae releases him and Jiyong steps back, palming the hot part of his wrist. How long has it been since he walked through the front door? A minute? _Thirty seconds?_ What the fuck just happened? He feels rung out. His heart is pounding.  
  
Hyeong-bae sits wearily on the end of the bed. He stares at the ground and Jiyong watches him, dazed. What happens now? He can't get his thoughts together. This isn't really happening, is it? Hyeong-bae looks so defeated and miserable Jiyong wonders for a moment if he shouldn't just confess. If he really _loved_ him, wouldn't he put a stop to this? If he is _this_ hurt by little signs that could mean nothing at all?  
  
He thought it would be easier to keep their relationship going a while longer because he _loves_ him. He wants him to be a part of his life. He would miss him too much if he left. More than that, he doesn't want to ever hurt him with the truth that love just isn't the same as _in love_ \--- but if Hyeong-bae is _asking_ him to tell the truth now, asking him to just let go rather than to lie? Isn't that the choice made?  
  
His heart aches.  
  
He isn't ready for this. He doesn't want this. He just needed time to make a plan---  
  
'Hyung--'  
  
'The last relationship I had before you,' Hyeong-bae cuts in purposefully, 'didn't end very well. I never told you but I _loved_ this girl. I loved her like I've never loved anyone before, so like an idiot, I proposed one day. We were only fooling around but what did I have to lose? I proposed and she accepted me. It was all a dream. I couldn't believe someone like me could get a girl like that. Beautiful and smart and funny'.  
  
Jiyong tenses. He had no idea Hyeong-bae was engaged once. Of course he has his own secrets, it shouldn't come as a surprise but it _does_. Jiyong realises that he has always seen Hyeong-bae as an accessory to his own life. He has never treated him like his own person with his own private history.  
  
'She had a busy job. She flew to all kinds of places for work so I got used to her taking sudden trips or not always being on time for plans we'd made together,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I never thought anything of it'.  
  
Jiyong knows exactly where this is going.  
  
'Imagine my surprise when I came home from work early one day and found her with somebody else. In my tiny cramped apartment that she always said had character. They were in our bed. My bed. The bed I had lain in a thousand times thanking God for letting me have her. That's where they were when I walked in,' Hyeong-bae says, making eye contact and keeping it. 'She was going to be my wife? And that's what she did to me. When I confronted her, she didn't try to fight me or make excuses. She just confessed and that was that. She went away and didn't come back'.  
  
Jiyong's heart sinks a second, third and fourth time in the space of a few seconds. He crumples at the look on Hyeong-bae's face and the tone of his voice and he _hates_ himself like he has never hated himself before.  
  
He understands Hyeong-bae's paranoia. It doesn't make this any easier. He only has two choices, tell the truth or lie and if he lies, which lie does he tell? If he confessed right now to sleeping with Seunghyun or to loving him still after all this time-- he would break Hyeong-bae's heart. He would hurt him the same way his fiance did. Once is enough to break a man but twice? That's the kind of thing that ruins a person forever; ruins their trust in other human beings.   
  
Jiyong knows that telling the truth is off the table now, whether it's today or six months from now, Hyeong-bae can't ever know what he's been doing. It would destroy him. If he has to end things between them it can't be through honesty. It has to be another way. He loves him too fucking much to tell the truth. He has to figure this out. He needs _time_ to figure this out. There must be a way to fix this, a way to avoid hurting anybody, himself included. There has to be a way, he just needs time. Like he originally wanted, he just needs more _time---_  
  
'Are you doing that to me?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Are you fucking somebody else?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'I think you're lying'.  
  
Jiyong's gaze falters and it doesn't go unnoticed. Hyeong-bae stands in answer and steps forward.  
  
'I'm not lying,' Jiyong tells him. 'I've told you enough times'.  
  
'Why don't I believe you?'   
  
'I guess you don't think very highly of me'.  
  
_'Jiyong--'_  
  
Hyeong-bae tries to grab his arm but Jiyong jerks back instinctively. He moves back a half-step but trips. He doesn't look where he's going and his foot catches the corner of the dresser.  
  
He falls backwards.  
  
His head hits the wall and that's that.  
  
Stupid.

  
  


 


	27. Chapter 27

   
  


For the first time in his life, being clumsy has its advantages. When Jiyong opens his eyes, the fight is over and the accusations behind them. It takes a few seconds to understand why he's on the floor but he puts the pieces together. He tripped and hit his head. He wants to throw up but is otherwise fine.

When he tries to get up, the room sways. He feels nauseous. Hyeong-bae sits him against the wall and the barrage begins. Jiyong is stunned into silence because Hyeong-bae apologises a dozen times for the accusations and for being paranoid and for making him fall. Jiyong tries to correct him, 'I tripped, you didn't do anything'--- but he lets the self-recrimination go on just long enough.  
  
_I didn't mean all that shit I said. I don't know what's wrong with me._  
  
Hyeong-bae's panic over the accident flips their situation on its head and Jiyong lets it. The suspicion and doubt is usurped by worry and regret. Hyeong-bae dotes on him. He is frazzled. He touches him all over as if needing affirmation that he is still in one piece. _You were unconscious for a few seconds, maybe you should go to the hospital or something_ \--- It goes on.  
  
His genuine concern makes Jiyong feel like the monster he might actually be. What kind of person would listen to so much panic and self-loathing and not _say_ anything when he knows better? Hyeong-bae tortures himself and Jiyong lets him because he feels sick and because he's surprised and he can't think of an alternative fast enough.  
  
_Are you okay? Are you sure? I'm sorry._  
  
Jiyong lets each word chip away at him.  
  
He only protests when Hyeong-bae insists on carrying him to the bed. Jiyong growls, almost annoyed at this point. _I have legs. I can walk four feet to the bed---_ but he finds himself hauled off the ground anyway.  
  
On the bed at last, Hyeong-bae hovers still. His attentions become draining. He brings a glass of water and his face morphs into something sad and injured. Jiyong has no idea what to say to him. What would they be hurling at each other if he hadn't tripped and knocked himself out? All those accusations have to _go_ somewhere, it doesn't matter if Hyeong-bae has internalised them out of panic. Those things he felt must still be there.  
  
'I'm not cheating on you with some woman'.  
  
'I know'.  
  
'Do you?'  
  
Jiyong lays it on thick. He defends himself by recalling the truth and saying the opposite. He is tired but persuasive because the past sixteen months don't end like this. He won't let them. If they have to part ways it won't be this way. He knows the right attitude can save this. He knows his stupid accident has already worked to his advantage.  
  
'You want to see my second phone? It's just for work. Go for it'.  
  
He ignores Hyeong-bae's pleas for him to stay in bed and hauls himself up, regretting it soon enough. His nausea remains. There's a ringing in his ears. In the closet, he fishes Seunghyun's phone out of the pocket of an old coat and extends his arm out between them.  
  
'Take it,' he gestures. 'Have a look!'  
  
Hyeong-bae stares at the phone in his hand, hesitant. He suspects but he doesn't _know._  
  
On this phone there must be five hundred texts between he and Seunghyun. Jiyong makes sure to keep his proffered hand steady but he sweats thinking about every shared photo, every word, every emoji. If Hyeong-bae looks at this phone for even twenty seconds he will know everything. His suspicions will be confirmed. He will be validated. Jiyong hasn't been stupid enough to save anything explicit or keep any messages from Seunghyun that outright state the nature of things. It's just obvious. In little ways they must give themselves away.  
  
For the first time Jiyong wonders how Hyeong-bae would react to finding out he wasn't the first--- that there was no ex-girlfriend but a boyfriend instead. How much worse would that make the betrayal?  
  
In the end Hyeong-bae does exactly what Jiyong hopes. He declines politely, penitent.  
  
'I don't need to see your phone'.  
  
'Well, it's here if you ever want to look at it. Next time just spy on me instead of accusing me of cheating. It will be easier for both of us'.  
  
Jiyong is surprised by the anger in his own voice, surprised by how easy it is to play the role despite his guilt for doing so. He tells himself he's just tired--- embarrassed about the accident, caught off guard by the fight and the _ringing_ in his ears is driving him insane. He needs this to be over. He needs five minutes of peace to _think s_ o he rallies his affected indignity and makes Hyeong-bae feel so wrong and so guilty that he leaves the apartment altogether _._  
  
'I'm taking a walk'.  
  
'Great,' Jiyong shrugs. 'Have a good time. You might catch my mistress on the stairs'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks back, dour.  
  
'Call me if you feel worse'.  
  
This last selflessness hits Jiyong hard. When the front door closes and he is finally alone, he slumps back on the bed and his mind goes blank. He stares at the ceiling and doesn't feel anything, too overwhelmed.

 

 

 

* * *  


 

Over the next week they maintain a charade of normalcy.  
  
On the first night when Hyeong-bae returns from his walk, Jiyong throws back the covers on the bed so he'll get in. They say a few words to each other and fall asleep hugging their own edges of the mattress. They don't really talk about _it_ again.  
  
They both try more-than-usually hard to be nice to each other and to fake interest in what the other is doing. They try so hard to make things feel normal that by the end of the week, Jiyong feels like the lead in a stage play. Pretending everything is alright is a full-time job, so much so that he doesn't have time for Seunghyun. He doesn't call him and he only texts twice in the week following the accusations.  
  
He just doesn't know how to fix what's happened. There is no way of bringing up the elephant in the room without reigniting the tension and the doubt and he has no defences good enough, none better than what he has already used anyway.  
  
The only time they have a real honest moment with each other, Hyeong-bae catches him with his fingers on the back of his head, prodding that sensitive place. Jiyong sighs when Hyeong-bae touches him-- when he replaces his fingers with his own and inspects the damage. Through his hair, Hyeong-bae kisses the little bump and goes back into the bedroom where he's been reading. It's sincere but out of place. Jiyong is left on the lounge feeling like he's done the wrong thing all over again. He feels such heart rending guilt he wants to confess everything and be done with it.  
  
Only he can't.  
  
He can't ever confess, he can only break things off and he isn't ready to do that. Hyeong-bae isn't just the guy in the other room simmering in his suspicions. He's the guy who saved him, who gave him a chance, who made him laugh when nothing else could. He's the guy who took him on a real date for the first time in his life. He's the guy who gave him his life back.  
  
Two weeks with Seunghyun and he's expected to cut ties? Because that's what breaking up is. It isn't just—- _'I don't want to fuck you any more,'_ it means Hyeong-bae goes away forever. All those genuine moments they've shared will be lost to him. Every laugh and playful moment, every serious conversation and bit of heartfelt advice. All that friendship--- lost.  
  
If this has to happen, Jiyong needs time to deal with it. Maybe, since realising Hyeong-bae has always been more of true friend than a partner, it is harder to let him go. He can't yet imagine a world in which Hyeong-bae isn't there when he is needed. The pack of cards from the impromptu magic show sit on the table all week and Jiyong finds himself staring at them often, wishing things were different.  
  
He starts to wonder when in life he started stacking the cards so he would always lose.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The way things turn out, Jiyong doesn't see Seunghyun for over a week. When it does happen, he is honest when Hyeong-bae asks where he's going. If he's going to lie, he'll lace it with truth. That's the key to effective deception.  
  
'I'm going to Seunghyun-hyung's. I think we might plan a little welcome back party for Daesung and Youngbae next week'.  
  
He knows he shouldn't visit Seunghyun at all but he is cripplingly anxious about Youngbae's impending return and he wants to talk about it. He imagines Seunghyun might feel the same about seeing Daesung. It seems right to spend a few hours together so they can commiserate. Hyeong-bae takes him at face value or he seems to. It's hard to know what's really going on beneath the surface.  
  
'I don't know when I'll be home. I'll text you'.

 

 

*

 

  
  
Jiyong's relief at seeing Seunghyun's face is short lived. Seunghyun looks _great_ when he first opens the door but voices emerge from inside the apartment before he can say a word. There is a barking laugh and muffled conversation somewhere out of sight. Seunghyun looks embarrassed to be caught with guests and Jiyong feels stupid for not calling first.  
  
It's not really his fault. As far as he knows Seunghyun spends most of his time alone and this isn't an AA day. The chances of someone else being here were slim to none. He doesn't recognise the male voice he can hear.  
  
'I didn't know you had anyone over. I should have called first'.  
  
'It's my sister,' Seunghyun explains. 'We were about to have dinner. There's plenty of food if you want to join us. It’s just pizza'.  
  
'Pizza? No personal chef whipping up a glazed endangered fish?’  
  
'Yeon jun wanted pizza so---'  
  
Jiyong smiles.  
  
'The whole family is here, huh?'  
  
'Just the three of them. My sister brought her husband,' Seunghyun adds in a whisper, 'who I don't know very well and never talk to so this will be interesting’.  
  
He seems so embarrassed and sorry for the misunderstanding, Jiyong feels sorry for coming over at all. He tries to relieve Seunghyun's anxiety. He smiles. They both know the extended offer to join them isn't genuine. It would be a mistake for a dozen reasons.  
  
'I bet,' Jiyong answers. 'I don't want to intrude on a family dinner. Personally, it sounds like it would be a nightmare, all things considered'.  
  
Them. Their relationship. The fact that Seunghyun's sister _knows_ about them but Seunghyun doesn't know that. No thank-you. That's as much fun as falling down the stairs. He'll just go home or to a bar or maybe he'll call someone? It hasn't been a wasted trip. He got to see that involuntary smile when Seunghyun first opened the door.  
  
'I did want to kiss you,' Jiyong says quietly, 'but I guess I can wait'.  
  
Seunghyun's smile grows. Jiyong expects him to kid around and apologise but he doesn't do that. He steps onto the landing instead. He pulls the door closed behind him (bar an inch), pulls Jiyong in by the wrist and kisses him.  
  
Jiyong pays no mind to the risk they're taking. He is too surprised. He should reel at the danger but Seunghyun's touch is all it takes to persuade him. It's nice. They keep the kiss shallow, sweet and simple. Their tongues barely graze but it hits all the right buttons. Jiyong huffs warm air against Seunghyun's cheek before they kiss a second time.   
  
For a moment, he allows himself to believe they're different people. How nice it is to kiss somebody outside without a moment’s hesitation because you want to. How nice to feel the warmth of someone's body in the cool night air. What a luxury.  
  
Seunghyun's spontaneity is appreciated but their kiss is too fleeting. A few seconds in the dark, nothing more. Laughter carries from inside the apartment when they separate and Jiyong feels a pang of possessiveness over him. All those lost opportunities. He'll never get to share this with anyone else. He'll never get to walk into a dinner and kiss Seunghyun in front of friends. Sometimes that feels like a significant loss.  
  
Seunghyun reluctantly steps back into the apartment and promises to txt later. Jiyong thinks of telling him not to. The second phone lives in his car now where he can't always reach it. For all his posturing with Hyeong-bae, he isn't completely stupid.  
  
Before he can explain, they are interrupted.  
  
'Who is that? Who's at the door--- _Jiyong?'_  
  
It's Seunghyun's sister.  
  
She walks right up beside Seunghyun until he has to open the door all the way to accommodate her. Jiyong flushes. She looks at him with surprise and something he can't translate. It's understandable, all things considered. What she says surprises him.  
  
'We're about to have dinner. Why don't you join us?'  
  
It doesn't seem like a trap. She seems totally sincere and that throws him off. After their encounter last week, he expected they would avoid each other for the rest of their lives. A dinner invitation is insane.  
  
'No,' Jiyong shakes his head. 'It's a family dinner, I really can't. I wouldn't feel comfortable'.  
  
'How long have you been friends?' She asks, looking between he and Seunghyun. 'Doesn't that make you family? Come in. There's enough for everybody. Seunghyun bought every pizza in the store'.  
  
'He _what?'_  
  
'I don't know what I like,' Seunghyun answers tiredly, as if he's already had to explain this simple reasoning a hundred times.  
  
'Of course,' Jiyong smiles. 'That's totally normal. Still'. He looks at Hyeyoon pleadingly. She of all people must understand why he can't stay. 'I _really_ can't'.  
  
Her insistence is alarming.  
  
'You can and you will. Come inside'.  
  
She turns and walks away without another word.  
  
In her quick departure, Seunghyun looks dazed and embarrassed. For a moment Jiyong wonders if he knows about her but it doesn't seem likely. He doesn't look worried in that way. He looks like he's afraid that they will give themselves away. He is thinking these two parts of his life shouldn't mix together. Boyfriend + Family = Trouble. A simple equation they've already tested.  
  
'I'll just leave,' Jiyong says.  
  
If Seunghyun isn't worried, he is himself. How _insane_ that he should have to sit around with these two, sharing secrets with each of them. Why should he have to keep everyone's secrets? He doesn't want to have dinner. Hyeyoon _knows._ Embarrassment notwithstanding, what if he disappoints her? What if he says the wrong things or says nothing at all and she goes home wondering what possessed Seunghyun to lower himself so much that he could want to date him, let alone more. What if this pizza dinner changes her whole opinion on them or Seunghyun's secret identity. What if he slips up and Seunghyun's sister blames gay and bisexual people everywhere because he made a bad joke or because he doesn't know enough about politics?  
  
'She would kill me if you left now,' Seunghyun answers morbidly. He steps aside so Jiyong can enter. 'So this is happening. But--- it could be worse'.  
  
'Yeah,' Jiyong answers, brushing past him reluctantly. 'We could be _dead'._  


 

*  
  


  
Seunghyun makes things hard right from the get go. When they are standing around the table assessing their dinner options, Seunghyun grabs a few slices of pizza from the other end of the table and puts them on Jiyong's plate.  
  
'How do you know I wanted this one?' Jiyong asks confrontationally. He is only playing around, making a comment in jest but Seunghyun answers with total seriousness.  
  
'Because I know you. You wanted a different one?'  
  
He looks genuinely worried that he might have made a mistake. It makes it all the more embarrassing that he didn't. Out of everything on the table, Seunghyun chose the exact pizza Jiyong wanted to try, right down to the best pieces. They barely ever ate pizza together. How could he know? Jiyong sees Hyeyoon on his periphery, taking in the scene. He blushes and tugs his plate in.  
  
'No. This is good'.  
  
When it's all said and done, dinner is not a huge disaster. It's kind of nice. Jiyong purposely sits opposite Seunghyun so they aren't too close together and so he always has somewhere to look during long silences but there aren't that many.  
  
Yeon-Jun takes up a lot of attention by getting pizza in every hole in his face including his eyes and Seunghyun's sister tries to fill any other pauses. It's different from the family dinners he has with his own family-- they talk about movies and friends and celebrities and funny stories they've heard. Around Seunghyun's table they talk about art and business and at times Jiyong feels naïve, like he has stepped into the hard end of a newspaper and found himself out of his depth.  
  
For a long time, the only thing he contributes to conversation is some passing words about a casual friend. The conversation steers to fashion and Hyeyoon's husband mentions having met Haider Ackermann on a business trip. They attended the same function. Haider danced barefoot on the furniture. Jiyong laughs at this, adding his own experiences of the man until he misses him and their sporadic encounters. It makes him yearn to see people he hasn't thought about for aeons. He misses being around people who create their own energy, who become, wherever they go, the centre of their own universes.  
  
For a little while, Jiyong has things to say and everyone listens. Hyeyoon asks him sporadic questions that make him feel like a member of the party and not just a fifth wheel. He gets a little _involved_ talking about fashion. He realises with embarrassment this is because he hasn't had an outlet for a long time. Hyeyoon senses something like it and encourages him, even when he thinks he's said enough.  
  
Throughout dinner Jiyong realises she does this for him a lot. Not for the others, just him. She pays special attention. Once Jiyong realises, he makes it harder for her to draw him out. He would rather stay silent. The more he speaks, the more chances there are for him to fuck up.  
  
He finds himself avoiding her and steering clear of conversation traps. He focusses on Seunghyun. He asks questions so other people will talk over him. For a while Youngbae and Daesung are brought up and in a small way, Jiyong gets to exorcise his stress about that through Seunghyun's words. Like he thought, they feel the same about it. Excited but scared. Time changes things. A lot has happened since they were all separated.  
  
Jiyong picks at his pizza and wonders what Youngbae will think of the person he's become, if he will notice right away that he has changed. Maybe it will happen in reverse. Maybe Youngbae will be different. Maybe they'll both be so changed, they'll meet like strangers.  
  
The dinner continues. Conversation creates itself.  
  
Hyeyoon's husband talks unselfconsciously so even Seunghyun is able to have sporadic conversation with him. The dinner goes alright. Somehow, talk never lags too long and though he has been silent for most of the dinner, Jiyong doesn't feel monstrously awkward for it when it's all said and done. The only awkward moment comes when Hyeyoon cracks open a bottle of wine and places a glass in front of Seunghyun. Jiyong tenses involuntarily but watches Seunghyun decline with general aplomb.  
  
_Because I don't feel like it. Yes, I know. The world must be ending. Ha Ha._  
  
In between serious conversation, Jiyong watches Seunghyun throw little bits of food at Yeon-Jun when nobody else is watching. The look on the kid’s face is priceless. _Food! Materialising from the sky!_ It takes at least 10 pieces of bacon to the chest for him to catch Seunghyun in the act and the sour expression he returns is unconscionably funny.  
  
Later, Seunghyun shoves little pieces of crust in his mouth and pretends to be a vampire which nobody finds funny, least of all Yeon-Jun. Over the top of her brothers nauseating attempts to entertain them, Hyeyoon tries to engage Jiyong in conversation again. He finds himself feigning distraction. He watches Seunghyun make an ass of himself to avoid her.  
  
He tries not to think about it too deeply but her kindness has been obvious from the moment she met him at the door. Given their shared secret, it means more to Jiyong than he could have imagined. A hollow feeling begins to form in his chest like a peach pit in his core.  
  
At the tail end of dinner, Seunghyun holds his stomach and slumps back in his chair. Deadpan, he says, 'It's a good thing we ate when we did. I'm not even hungry now'.  
  
It takes time for the nuances of this abominable joke to settle in but when they do, Jiyong laughs so hard that tears run down his face and he has to leave the room to collect himself. It takes two full minutes to calm down enough to walk back in with a red face and swollen eyes. When he does, Seunghyun's sister looks at him softly.  
  
Maybe she's relieved that someone in the world finds Seunghyun's jokes funny.  
  
He's obviously the only one.  


 

  
*

  


An hour later they are all, to varying degrees, in the kitchen. Only the island separates them from one another. Jiyong hangs back and watches Seunghyun be a normal human being for a change. He is clearing the table with slow efficiency, talking to his namesake with relative ease. If he still finds it hard to talk to the guy, he's hiding his discomfort well. They look like old friends at the tail end of a dinner party. Jiyong feels a sense of pride at how _okay_ Seunghyun is. He would kiss him if he were allowed to.  
  
Hyeyoon is on his side of the kitchen with her head in the fridge, putting leftovers away. There are enough foil-covered plates to feed twenty-five people. Finding space in the previously empty fridge is proving a challenge.  
  
Meanwhile, Yeon-Jun is moving like a child on a mission, tapping every piece of furniture he can find. Jiyong watches him toddle from a chair to a cabinet to a bookshelf, tapping each once before searching for the next object to hit. He reaches the base of a statuette in the corner, decides it isn't worth touching and moves on.  
  
When the two Seunghyun's re-enter the kitchen Jiyong moves aside so they can load the dishwasher. He loses sight of Yeon-Jun as he rounds a corner into the next room. With nothing else to look at, he absently watches the dishes being loaded into the rack and listens to their conversation wind down.   
  
'---thirty-feet but the space in Guro will cost too much,' Hyeyoon's husband says. 'The renovations required will cost millions and there's no guarantee the projections for the area will eventuate. The downturn for the last two years is too big a concern. I think you've made the right choice. Better safe than sorry'.  
  
He makes a few mysterious platitudes about real estate, slaps Seunghyun on the shoulder and goes to wipe down the table. In his absence, Jiyong leans in.  
  
'What was that about?'  
  
'Nothing,' Seunghyun answers. ' It's just talk'.  
  
Jiyong is about to press him but something catches his eye. Yeon-Jun has materialised in the kitchen once more. Standing on the tips of his toes, he is reaching for something hanging over the island bench-top. It happens in two seconds flat but Yeon-Jun hits the handle of the knife hard enough that it spins and slips off the counter. It's big and heavy and made from some pretentious steel hand-crafted by samurai's in Japan or some nonsense. Jiyong lunges forward in time to catch it by the blade, almost knocking Yeon-Jun out of the way in the process. He catches the blade with his palm, feels a sting and drops it.  
  
The knife hits the tiles.  
  
Seunghyun ordered those tiles from overseas and now he's scratched them. That's the first thing Jiyong thinks. He tries to apologise but he doesn't get his words out. Seunghyun is on him in an instant. Seunghyun almost _tackles_ him in his efforts to wrap a white linen towel around his bleeding hand.  
  
It's only when specks of red seep through the towel that he realises he _is_ bleeding.  
  
Yeon-Jun is bundled into a corner, remonstrated by his mother for touching things he isn't supposed to. Jiyong is going to say something but Seunghyun drags him out of the kitchen so quickly he can't get two words out.  
  
He is pushed up the hallway and into the main bathroom so fast his feet barely touch the ground. He bleeds on the floor. Before Seunghyun kicks the door shut behind them, Jiyong sees the trail of red drops and feels guilty. When they are alone together, Jiyong notices how tightly Seunghyun is holding onto him. He pulls his arm free, _you're overreacting,_ but the towel gets caught on his cut when he tries to pull it free and he grimaces. Suddenly the pain catches up with him and his hand becomes a throbbing useless mess.  
  
Seunghyun hauls him up by the waist and sits him on the sink like a child with a scraped knee. Jiyong is surprised by the unexpected gesture and doesn't say a word. He lets Seunghyun take charge of his hand and watches him go to work. Seunghyun peels the towel back and Jiyong grimaces, put out by how quickly blood wells up in his palm. He didn't feel anything when he caught the knife but _this_ is disgusting.  
  
'I don't know how bad this is. You might need stitches,' Seunghyun says quietly. He presses the towel back over Jiyong's palm and holds his throbbing hand between his own. They make eye contact for the first time. Jiyong is surprised by how panicked he looks. Considering how fast he moved into action, it's unexpected. The hero feels.  
  
'I'm fine,' Jiyong assures him. _'Probably'._  
  
'I know'.  
  
'So, what's with the face?'  
  
'I wasn't watching him,' Seunghyun says quietly, looking down at Jiyong's bandaged hand. 'He could have killed himself because I wasn't paying attention. I left that knife there'.  
  
Jiyong frowns in sympathy.  
  
'It was just an accident,' he says tenderly.  
  
'It was stupid,' Seunghyun answers. 'He's always doing that. He’s always climbing things and pulling things off shelves and I still left that knife where he could reach it. I was four feet away and he did that. I didn't see him'.  
  
'Either did his mother,' Jiyong reasons, 'or his father or me'.  
  
'Maybe shouldn't come here anymore. I obviously can't look after him'.  
  
Jiyong nudges Seunghyun with his toes and snaps his fingers to draw attention to his face.  
  
'Hey,' he says. 'It was an accident. Kids get into trouble. You can't watch them every second of the day. You only have to turn your back for a second and they'll find a way to hurt themselves. That's all it takes. One second. That doesn't make you unfit to look after him'.  
  
'But I am,' Seunghyun urges.  
  
'No. You look after him just fine. Leaving a knife on a counter was a silly mistake. That's all! You fell off the hood of a car once when you were playing as a kid. You made me touch the disgusting scar on your head! Is your mother an unfit parent because she turned her back on you for five seconds?'  
  
Seunghyun sighs heavily but doesn't answer.  
  
'No,' Jiyong answers. 'Are you going to walk out there and tell your sister she's a bad mother because of what just happened? I doubt it. Don't blame yourself for a little accident. Yeon-Jun is fine. Nothing bad happened'.  
  
Seunghyun's face changes then. He kisses Jiyong's wrist and squeezes his knee with his free hand.  
  
'You got hurt'.  
  
'Well, woe is me for catching the wrong end'.  
  
'Does it hurt?'  
  
'It does,' Jiyong grimaces. 'But I'm being very brave about it, don't you think? Have another look. Has it stopped bleeding?'  
  
Seunghyun gingerly unwraps the towel and Jiyong closes his eyes to avoid another glimpse of the disaster zone. Gentle fingertips poke and prod him. It stings and throbs in little waves.  
  
'Almost. I don't think you need stitches. Just some bandages'.  
  
Jiyong opens one eye and Seunghyun kisses the side of his injured hand. He's about to say something when a knock on the door startles them both.   
  
_'Seunghyun? Is everything alright? How bad is it?'_  
  
Jiyong is surprised by how quickly Seunghyun opens the door for his sister, eager to defer to someone else's better judgement. He gives her the floor and Hyeyoon takes over the role of poking and prodding at Jiyong's bleeding palm. She comes to the same conclusion. He has escaped stitches this time, antiseptic and bandages should do the trick. Only Seunghyun doesn't have anything in the house. His cache still consists of a few band-aids, some painkillers and a bottle of insect repellent.  
  
She sends Seunghyun for the first aid kit in her car and he leaves without hesitation like a man on a mission. Jiyong would be moved and entertained by that except Seunghyun's departure means he and Hyeyoon are left alone together. The sister and whatever _he_ is. Jiyong is pretty optimistic about avoiding any _personal_ talk in lieu of what just happened vis a vis the knife incident but Hyeyoon closes the door once Seunghyun is gone and he shrinks at the ominous need for privacy.  
  
'Thank-you,' she says tenderly, 'for catching the knife’.  
  
'It's fine,' Jiyong answers. 'Is Yeon-Jun---'  
  
'He's fine'.  
  
Their innocuous conversation is short lived. She confesses something.  
  
'I was standing outside the door before I knocked,' she says. 'I heard what you said to Seunghyun. You were right obviously, it was just an accident'.  
  
Jiyong blushes, embarrassed at her overhearing their conversation.  
  
‘Thank-you for trying to calm him down,' she says. 'He can get very trapped in his own head. He can be over-dramatic'.  
  
'He can' _._  
  
She lets go of his hand and Jiyong draws it back. He stares at his lap to avoid her face. Her next words come out so quietly he almost can't hear them. Maybe it's just the blood rushing into his face from the onset. His can almost hear his heart pounding.  
  
'I'm sorry for eavesdropping but I'm glad I did. I won't pretend to understand all the details here,' Jiyong knows she's talking about the big _gay_ thing, 'but you two obviously have something. I watched Seunghyun during dinner and he was different. It was nice to see him in those moments he didn't realise I was watching. I haven't seen him like that for a long time. He seems happy’.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard, unwilling to raise his head. Being outed a dozen times has been a series of hurts and pains and entrenched fears rearing their head. He has felt broken by them and become defensive but this? Hyeyoon is sincere. She included him in a family dinner. She steered conversation when she sensed he was out of his depth. During her earlier invitation she said, _'doesn't that make you family?'_ knowing he and Seunghyun were more than friends. With no tangible information about their relationship, she has done all these things for him.  
  
'I like you,' she says sincerely. 'I don't know you very well but I do. I want my brother to be happy. I think he loves you a lot'.  
  
'What makes you think that?' Jiyong asks warily.  
  
'A combination of intuition and a dozen more obvious signs. You give yourselves away'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. Two hours together with an audience and they became shiny beacons of gayness? Christ. Hyeyoon seems to understand his unspoken fear.  
  
'My husband wouldn't have noticed,' she reassures him. 'You could wear a sign around your neck and he wouldn't see it'.  
  
'It's hard not to worry. I think a handful of people knowing is enough without me _broadcasting_ it'.  
  
She smiles.  
  
'I think you're safe. It was only obvious because I knew already'.  
  
'How obvious?'  
  
'You look at each other a certain way, I suppose. Seunghyun doted on you. He spent half the night making sure you weren't uncomfortable. You laughed at his terrible joke and when you were out of the room, he looked so proud of himself it was embarrassing,' she says. 'When he saw you hurt yourself, he really panicked. For a moment I thought something horrible had happened. He was scared for you,' she says gently.   
  
'I'm sure he would have looked that way for anyone. Besides, he was upset about Yeon-Jun. He wasn't worried about me'.  
  
Hyeyoon laughs quietly and touches his knee.  
  
'A few years ago Seunghyun came to visit me,' she says. 'Before I got pregnant. I tripped and broke my wrist right in front of him. He knew right away that it was serious but he teased me until my husband could pick me up and take me to the hospital. That's what he's like when people around him hurt themselves. It's all a big joke. He tries to deflect panic with humour,' she explains. 'He doesn't like the sight of blood either. Ever since he filmed that movie a few years ago, he leaves the room when someone cuts their finger. You were bleeding and he went right to you. He didn't hesitate. He was already wrapping you up before I understood what happened'.  
  
'That doesn't mean anything,' Jiyong answers casually.   
  
'Well,' Hyeyoon says, ‘I think it does. I think you know it too'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces, reluctant to agree. She's probably right, it makes no sense to argue. They love each other. Of course Seunghyun would worry at the sight of his blood. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, it was kind of nice and sweet the way Seunghyun bundled him up. Maybe he's just embarrassed there were witnesses. His damsel in distress moment observed by the family.  
  
'He touched your face too,' Hyeyoon says.  
  
'What?'  
  
'After he wrapped your hand. I saw him touch your face for a moment, to see if you were okay. It wasn't the way a friend would do it. It was---' she hesitates, 'tender? I was surprised to see that side of him'.  
  
'I don't remember him doing that'.  
  
Hyeyoon tucks her hair behind her ears.  
  
'Why are you denying everything I say? More than five years together signifies something important. Is this just a crush? You seem embarrassed. Did I misinterpret things?'  
  
'No,' Jiyong answers quietly, 'but you haven't got all the facts'.  
  
'You're right,' she says slowly. 'I don't. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. This is new to me. I must be sticking my nose in because I've never been able to before. Seunghyun has never brought anyone home to meet us. He never went on dates that we knew about. He never talked about liking anybody. He dated that actress a hundred years ago but we didn't know about it until it was over. I had to read about it online,' she says. 'I suppose I'm just excited. I'm curious'.  
  
Jiyong frowns. It's weird to hear about Seunghyun's life from someone else's point of view.  
  
'He's always been secretive about his life,' she continues. 'He took care of the family for a long time but he never talks to us. About nothing personal anyway. He'll spend hours talking about a movie he's seen but he won't say a word about how he's feeling or what he's doing. It's nice to know that he talks to somebody. Even if it isn't me or the family. After so many hundred refusals to talk, you start to wonder if something bad isn't going on'.  
  
Jiyong stares at his lap again.  
  
'Though I suppose something bad has happened,' she says. 'All that stuff you told me last week. I've been thinking about that a lot. It worried me. That's why we came here tonight. If he needs help, we're here for him. Make sure he knows that, if you can'.  
  
Jiyong is surprised to find himself fighting back tears after so few words. His throat burns from the effort. After the gut wrenching situation with Seunghyun's mother, it's a huge relief to know there is someone on Seunghyun's side. It matters that with so little information about their relationship, Hyeyoon is being so candid with him. It matters that she knows Seunghyun is gay and is okay with that. It matters how easily she accepted it. It matters to Jiyong that she isn't looking down on him or wondering _why you, of all people?_  
  
Jiyong's heart aches for selfish reasons. He can't explain how much it matters to hear someone say, 'he loves you,' without recrimination. He wants so badly to hear it again. He wants to know how Seunghyun looks at him when he isn't watching. He wants Hyeyoon to share her thoughts until he has heard every word a thousand times.  
  
He blushes.  
  
Hyeyoon looks apologetic and Jiyong feels bad for suggesting she crossed a line. He wants to reassure her but pauses. For a moment he is struck by doubt. What if she knew everything? If she had the whole story would she still treat him this way? Would she encourage him and approve of him and invite him in for dinner? What would he say to her if he was capable of being honest? Would he tell her that he's loved Seunghyun since they were barely out of high school? Would he explain all the flowery, fantastic parts of their relationship and leave out the rest? Or would he tell her _everything?_   
  
Would he tell her about that childhood dream he had of a wife and three kids? Would he confess that he was prepared to one day sacrifice Seunghyun to have that life? Would he tell her he hasn't dreamed that dream for a while now?  
  
_Ah._  
  
Alone with Hyeyoon, Jiyong understands his true feelings for the first time. The realisation hits him quickly but gently, like releasing a long-held breath. He understands things he's always known to be true but suppressed. Every absurd and selfish and dramatic moment between he and Seunghyun over the past few months has had its reason. Their bitter meetings had become comical in their extremism but he sees that rocky path now for what it is.  
  
Seunghyun _is_ the dream. He has been for a while.  
  
That dream he clung to from childhood of a wife and three kids changed one day. It just clocked over. Seunghyun became the plan. He usurped the wife and kids for a different life and Jiyong accepted that. He accepted something else for himself; a life with Seunghyun, not just until enlistment or until their real lives began but beyond that. Forever.  
  
On some level he knew all this already. He knew things had changed, only he buried the information deep down where it wasn't able to do any damage. Where his new dream couldn't blow up in his face or reject him or hurt him. One day he must have woken up, looked at Seunghyun's face and realised he was in trouble. When did that happen? How long has he been pretending this isn't what he wants five or ten years down the line?  
  
It was so easy at twenty-four to be blasé about their relationship and their future together. They didn't just _think_ about the inevitable expiry, they talked about it openly. Seunghyun gave him carte blanche to end things whenever the call came to grow up and settle down with a nice woman. That always distant _end_ made the risks worthwhile because of the temporary nature of what they were doing.  
  
It was easy to become enthralled with one another, easy to move in together and become _everything_ to one another because it was always going to end. It was just a good time before responsibility forced them to part ways.  
  
Jiyong reels.  
  
The last year and a half hasn't hit him so hard because he was at risk of losing someone he spent happy years with. It's hit him hard because the next twenty years were at stake. There has been so much more to lose than he was ever willing to admit.  
  
He _wants_ this life. He wants Seunghyun and his furniture and his sister and his nephew and the pizza dinners and the rest. He wants this for himself. It isn't so naïve and stupid to think they can stay together beyond their twenties. Is it? Maybe they can still love each other in their thirties and forties and beyond.  
  
Maybe they won't last that long. Maybe they won't last another six months let alone six years but Jiyong knows, at some point he started expecting them to try. How many fights and nights spent alone could have been avoided if he was able to admit it sooner? It was hard to imagine before. He was comfortable with his twenties. He was comfortable thinking of himself as young and free and able to do anything, whenever. Wanting more than that was a step into an uncertain future with bigger stakes.  
  
Even when Seunghyun was a world away, he must have believed deep down that a future together was still possible. If he ever stopped hoping he wouldn't _be_ here. He would have pursued that other, admittedly easier life. Instead, he did the opposite.  
  
Why was every girl he went on a date with wrong in some way? Why did he settle for a man instead? Why Hyeong-bae who was working under the assumption he was straight? Why Hyeong-bae who was charming and goofy and had all the qualities that made Seunghyun so desirable?  
  
When Seunghyun first asked, _'what is (s)he like?'_ Jiyong stared him in the face and said, _'like you'._  
  
Hyeong-bae and Seunghyun are alike. Of course they are. He was probably always seeking out Seunghyun, he just found a more accessible version. One who hadn't left him without saying goodbye; a quality that made Hyeong-bae invaluable, or so it felt at the time.  
  
Jiyong suddenly sees the _arrangement_ for what it is. A mistake. A well-intentioned but stupid mistake. He spent so many months and weeks and hours trying to validate their relationship, trying to prove to himself that Hyeong-bae wasn't a rebound or a facsimile of _the real thing._  
  
But he was.  
  
He _is._  
  
Last week Jiyong was still trying to justify it. _I would feel so alone if he wasn't there (on the days you're not up to seeing me)_. What about the days Seunghyun _is_ available? When there's a choice, does Hyeong-bae have a shot?  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
He loves Hyeong-bae. Maybe the reasons for that aren't as natural or as simple as he thought five minutes ago but he loves him. He owes him so much, that's true a thousand times over. That doesn't make him capable of repaying the debt. Loving someone doesn't mean you're right for them.  
  
It _means_ something that he would rather bleed in Seunghyun's bathroom than go home prematurely. It means Hyeong-bae is the back-up Jiyong always insisted he wasn't. When Seunghyun is around, Hyeong-bae is an obstacle. It's only when they are alone together and Seunghyun is inaccessible that things change.  
  
That's not a life, it's a clue.   
  
Jiyong has to end things with Hyeong-bae and he has to do it the right way. He has to reassure him there isn't anyone else. He doesn't to want to hurt him. He doesn't want Hyeong-bae to walk away from their time together thinking he's unloveable or that, like his fiance made him feel, he's only good until someone better comes along.   
  
He's just not a part of the dream.  
  
He never has been.  
  
However Jiyong might have answered Hyeyoon's last request, it goes unsaid. Seunghyun returns from his excursion to the car, med kit in hand. He walks in with a perplexed expression, his face tinged with worry about the closed door. Jiyong smiles to abate his fears and the delicate medical procedure recommences. Mostly, Hyeyoon burns his hand to high hell with antiseptic and bandages him up so tightly he can't feel his fingers.  
  
'If you loosen the bandages you'll pull the cut open every time you wiggle your fingers. Pretend you're wearing a boxing glove for a few days. Give it time to heal over'.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

When everyone has gone home, Seunghyun is full and drunk on his own overeating nausea. He has to lay down. He cradles his stomach on the bed and Jiyong lays down beside him. He listens to his miseries.  
  
'I want to throw up'.  
  
'If you do, give me some warning first,' Jiyong grimaces. 'You shouldn't have eaten so much. You practically ate two pizzas on your own'.  
  
'They were awesome'.  
  
'Surprising,' Jiyong jests, 'given the lack of gold flakes or quail eggs involved'.  
  
'You're one to talk'.  
  
Jiyong elbows him in the side but _gently_ in case he really does need to throw up. He rests his bandaged hand on his stomach. It still throbs in small waves.  
  
'That wasn't so bad,' he says after a while. 'Tonight'.  
  
Seunghyun opens one eye in answer.  
  
'No. It felt pretty normal. In that way, it was weird'.  
  
Jiyong hums agreement and stares at the ceiling. So much has changed in the last few hours, he finds his mind running empty. There is too much to think about. He is staring at the light, making patterns behind his eyes when Seunghyun says something unexpectedly candid.  
  
'When we were sitting there, it felt like everyone knew about us'.   
  
For a moment Jiyong yearns to tell him 1/3 did.  
  
'Like we were having a dinner party or something. We invited people over and everyone had a good time. You and I were just two people living a normal life, hosting an intimate gathering. It was like that'.  
  
'I suppose'.  
  
'It felt like the way I imagine it would feel if my family knew about me and everyone was okay with it. If I could be myself in my own home or smile at you without worrying about how it looked to others. I got a taste of a different life'.  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of guilt for Seunghyun's ignorance. It's easy to understand considering his mother’s endless derision but his sister seems sincere in her acceptance. Isn't it wrong to keep that information from him? Wouldn't he feel better knowing this isn't a pipe dream he's talking about?  
  
'Maybe someday,' Jiyong answers.  
  
He promised Hyeyoon he wouldn't say anything. Besides, who knows how Seunghyun would react. He might feel better or he might feel like his privacy had been invaded. Maybe his reluctance to talk to them isn't as simple as wanting to hide his sexuality. Maybe he just wants to stay private.  
  
'God I feel terrible,' Seunghyun groans.  
  
'Poor you,' Jiyong answers, holding his bandaged arm over Seunghyun's face. 'I can't imagine how horrible you must feel with your greed induced stomach ache. Let me play a tiny violin for you--- oh,' he gasps. 'I can't, because I have no fingers. Just this mound of bandage where my hand used to be. A very serious injury gained in the saving of a life. A painful _heroic_ injury'.  
  
Seunghyun pouts.  
  
'Why are you saying it like that? It's not my fault. I didn't stab you'.  
  
Jiyong snorts and rests his hand on his stomach again.  
  
'Anyway,' Seunghyun says, 'how are you going to explain your hand when you go home?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
'I don't know. Maybe I won't say anything'.  
  
'Ever again?'  
  
He smiles but doesn't answer. There are greater problems now than how to lie about his whereabouts. The how, the when and the why of breaking up with Hyeong-bae is a looming dark cloud. He feels sick just thinking about it. It was naïve to think more time would make it easier.  
  
'What's with the face?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
Jiyong weighs the pros and cons of telling him the truth. It doesn't matter that he had some revelations tonight because his actual relationship with Seunghyun hasn't changed. There is still uncertainty between them. No commitments can be made. Seunghyun is struggling, no matter how good he seems outwardly. He jogs every damn day to relieve his stress, he's going to AA twice a week and a therapist on a third day. His mother has almost disowned him; not to mention all the horrible things that have led them to this point.  
  
Telling Seunghyun he wants to have some flowery forever life with him would fuck things up. It would put pressure on him and this relationship they're rebuilding. At the end of the day, Seunghyun might not want the same things anyway. Even if the past two years were wiped clean, there are no guarantees.  
  
_Still._  
  
He can't tell him everything, but he can tell him _one_ thing. A few small truths in a bigger, murkier ocean. He answers Seunghyun's quip with some unprompted honesty.  
  
'I'm going to break up with my guy,' he says quickly. 'You were right when you said this arrangement was a bad idea. It was the wrong choice. I shouldn't have done it'.  
  
Seunghyun's answer is to roll over so they can meet eye to eye. He looks stunned. It takes a long time for him to say anything and what he does say is pretty meaningless.  
  
'I never said it was a _bad_ idea'.  
  
Jiyong smiles mutedly at his obvious surprise. He worries if Seunghyun didn't want this after all, if there was a measure of security in only being needed or wanted part-time. Maybe he's afraid that without Hyeong-bae occupying part of his life, he will have to commit himself to things he isn't ready for. He'll have to be a switched-on boyfriend 24/7. Never-mind that he was never that kind of person to begin with.  
  
'Nothing will _change_ for you and me,' Jiyong says easily. 'I just think it's the right thing to do'.  
  
'What's changed between now and last week?' Seunghyun answers seriously. 'What happened?'  
  
Jiyong tries to put him at ease.  
  
'Are you worried? You seem worried about this'.  
  
'I'm not worried,' he answers. 'I'm surprised'.  
  
Jiyong looks so doubtful that Seunghyun nudges him.  
  
'I'm _surprised,_ ' he reiterates. 'Things were different last week. You were adamant about a lot of stuff and I understood where you were coming from. This is a big change for only a few days difference. So what happened?'  
  
'Nothing happened,' Jiyong answers. 'I've just had more time to think'.  
  
Seunghyun gingerly picks up his bandaged hand and makes a show of inspecting the edges.  
  
'Did you get sepsis or something? Is it infected? Your brains have been scrambled by a little cut. I can't believe it'.  
  
Jiyong pulls his hand back with a sour face.  
  
'You're a comedian. I can't believe you don't have your own variety show'.  
  
'I can't believe you're breaking up with this guy all of a sudden but _nothing happened_. Pretty suspicious'.  
  
'How?' Jiyong asks. 'What do you think happened? Even if something did happen, it wouldn't be any of your business. I was just telling you as a courtesy'.  
  
Seunghyun snorts but doesn't answer. He looks pensive and Jiyong sighs quietly, not wanting this admission to go amiss.  
  
'You want the truth? When you ran to the car earlier, I had a chat with your sister about our love life and she gave me some advice. That's why the door was closed. I was spilling all my intimate secrets. It was life changing'.  
  
Seunghyun scoffs but this _joke_ seems to lift his mood. 'That's very funny,' he says. 'I'll have to thank her I guess'.  
  
Jiyong lifts his shoulders so Seunghyun can snake an arm around him. On his side, he rests his bandaged hand on Seunghyun's waist to keep it out of harms way. Seunghyun seems hesitant or reluctant to _believe_ in this break up; or maybe he's just doubtful about the reasons for it. When he breaks the silence he tries to seem cool and easy but Jiyong knows he has reservations--- anxieties he can't dispel without telling him everything and it's not the right time for his hefty confessions about their future.  
  
'You're really going to break up with him?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'Once I decide _how_ '.  
  
'So we can have sex again?'  
  
Jiyong snorts.  
  
'Once I've actually done it'.  
  
'Alright,' Seunghyun answers. 'When is this going to happen? Tomorrow? I'll buy some candles'.  
  
Jiyong knows he isn't being serious, he's just making a quip to keep things light. Some part of Seunghyun is doubting the break up will even happen. If it does, he knows it will take more than a few hours to come up with a delicate way of ending things. He has to know there will be emotional repercussions. It will be a mess for a while, maybe.  
  
It doesn't stop them from kidding around. They've had a weird night.  
  
'You want to fuck me that bad?' Jiyong asks. 'We couldn't have sex tonight, you're too full of food'. He pokes Seunghyun hard in the gut and he groans in answer.  
  
'I said _tomorrow'._  
  
Jiyong smiles into the kiss Seunghyun ducks down for. Their legs cross over one another, ankles intertwined.  
  
'You want to fuck me _tomorrow?'_ Jiyong breathes against Seunghyun's mouth. He bites his lower lip gently and kisses him a second time. Arms fold around his waist and he has to hold his bandaged hand above them.  
  
'I always want to fuck you'.  
  
Jiyong smiles into another kiss.  
  
'And if I want to fuck _you?'_  
  
‘I’d say let’s do it’.  
  
Seunghyun pulls him in tighter. His answer is a string of small innocent kisses followed by a dozen longer far _less_ innocent ones that distract and pull Jiyong in so much he forgets his injured hand altogether. It drops hard onto Seunghyun's hip. It hurts but the twinge of pain creates an exciting spark.  
  
It's a _struggle_ to pull back for air in the end, Jiyong is so reluctant to ever stop. In light of his recent self-discoveries, there are whole new levels of enjoyment to explore. He can't tell if it's been twenty seconds or twenty minutes when he finally manages to break the cycle of kissing. He buries his face in Seunghyun's neck to avoid temptation.  
  
'I want to fuck you,' he whispers. 'Last time I saw you it was all I could think about'.  
  
He feels guilty for saying so and for wanting that in light of his personal realisations. It isn't right to be here on Seunghyun's bed while Hyeong-bae is at home unawares. It isn't enough to simply abstain from sex and think that's the right thing to do. The right thing would have been to end this weeks ago. The right thing isn't going to happen in Seunghyun's arms--- however much it feels like it _might._  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes. It would be so easy to fall asleep here.  
  
Maybe he hasn't considered all the _ins and outs_ of this break-up and what it will mean, practically speaking. It's the right choice anyway. It has to be. He can't want this so much and still be holding onto something else. He will have to live with the loss and the empty apartment and the guilt and the regret.  
  
There hasn't been a moment since he and Hyeong-bae reconnected that Seunghyun wasn't on his mind. He has been cheating from the onset. Wanting to fuck Seunghyun (and doing it) is just the icing on the cake.  
  
Hyeong-bae will be better off without him.

 

  
  
  
*  


 

 

 

Walking in the door feels very different. Jiyong feels for the first time that his home doesn't belong to him anymore. Closing the front door behind him, he feels guilty. He wonders if he shouldn't let Hyeong-bae _have_ this apartment and move out himself.  
  
That's what happens when couples break up, isn't it? Everything gets split down the middle. Only everything that belongs to them is _his_. He won't be asking Hyeong-bae to just move on from the relationship but to leave his home too and this lifestyle and everything he's become accustomed to. Jiyong has to remind himself they've only been together for a year. In the grand scheme of things, that isn't so long. He had a girlfriend in High School for longer than that and he never got past first base.  
  
Only it isn't fair to equate Hyeong-bae with Shin-hye from his gawky teen years. They've been through too much together. Jiyong can't fathom the words ever leaving his mouth. Not even in the midst of an impassioned fight could he say what needs saying. He isn't brave enough. He's never broken up with anyone before. All the girls in high school dumped _him_ and Seunghyun—- well, he came next and that didn't end of his own accord. How do you do it? How do you say to another person, ' _I just don't feel the way you feel?'_  
  
That's not even taking the logistics into consideration. Hyeong-bae has things in every corner of this apartment, little mementos and signs and trinkets. Is he meant to go around the apartment with a cardboard box?  
  
Where will he go? Back to his shitty apartment across town? To go from this penthouse back to that disgusting room would be a nightmare. It doesn't matter that Jiyong paid off his debts or that his apartment is paid off until the end of the year. Hasn't _this_ become Hyeong-bae's home? It seems too much of an indignity to ask him to leave.  
  
When should he talk to him? In the middle of the day? In the morning? On a weekday? The weekend? When is the best _time_ of day? The best _day_ of the week to hear bad news? When the sun is going down and the lights cast shadows across the lounge-room floor. Is that when Hyeong-bae should take his last look around?  
  
_What a nightmare._  
  
'What happened to your hand?'  
  
Jiyong is startled, still toeing his shoes off in the hallway.  
  
'I fell over like an idiot. I don't want to talk about it. It was embarrassing'.  
  
Hyeong-bae emerges from the dark bedroom with his hair messy and his face swollen. He looks like he's been asleep and Jiyong wonders if he didn't wake him. It isn't until they're within a few feet of each other that he sees him fully. All his inner worries quickly take a backseat.  
  
_Christ._  
  
'What's _happened?'_  
  
Jiyong reaches out for him as he asks the question. He takes Hyeong-bae's wrist in hand without thinking. He doesn't protest or pull away. Hyeong-bae barely registers the contact. Jiyong guides him into the lounge-room and onto the couch. Hyeong-bae's eyes are red and swollen. He hasn't been asleep, he's been crying. He looks completely lost. Jiyong hasn't seen him look so disoriented since---  
  
'He's dead'.  
  
_'Who's_ dead?'  
  
Hyeong-bae blinks slowly, staring into the void between them.  
  
'My grandfather'.  
  
Jiyong frowns and lists forward unconsciously. So he's finally dead. He'd forgotten that Hyeong-bae's grandfather was still clinging to life somewhere. That first false alarm was so long ago--- it seemed like he would live forever.  
  
He remembers well enough the night Hyeong-bae came back from the hospital months ago, lost and vacant the way he is now. There was so much anger and spite and hurt in everything Hyeong-bae said and so much he wasn't saying. Jiyong never pressed him for more information. In this moment he wishes he had. He wishes he had more information so he could help him better now.  
  
'We see the attorney on Thursday. The funeral is on Friday'.  
  
Jiyong is so surprised he barely knows what to say.  
  
'I'm sorry. I really am'.  
  
Hyeong-bae runs a hand through his hair.  
  
'He said he was leaving everything to his housekeeper. Do you think he did that?' For a moment he has a wild look on his face. 'Would he really cut me out like that because of a little mistake?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs, confused. Just like the last time.  
  
'Out of his will? I don't know'.  
  
He squeezes Hyeong-bae's knee with his good hand. He isn't worried about the estate, Jiyong knows better than that. Grief hits people in strange ways. He saw it well enough the last time and that was just a false alarm. You must say weird stuff and think abstract thoughts. Your husband dies and at the wake you wonder if you haven't made enough sandwiches--- stuff like that. You take a break from reason.  
  
Suddenly, Hyeong-bae seems to shrink before his very eyes. He cries and becomes small. Jiyong's heart breaks for him. He has never seen him so fragile. He cries for a long time.  
  
'I hated him. I don't know why I'm acting like this'.  
  
Hyeong-bae sniffs and wipes his face, shining and wet and red. He grabs Jiyong's wrist when he tries to fetch him a glass of water. He just holds onto him. He pulls him in closer and holds him above the bandage. He stares at it for a while without saying anything.  
  
'Is your hand _okay?_ ' he asks eventually.  
  
'It's fine,' Jiyong answers tenderly. 'It's just a scrape. It looks worse than it is. Don't worry about it'.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods, sniffling still.  
  
'Why didn't you call me?' Jiyong asks quietly. 'When did you find out? I would have come right home'.  
  
'Two hours maybe. I didn't want you here. I don't know how I feel. There was too much history with me and him. I don't know if I'm glad he's dead or sad about it’.  
  
'I know you don't mean that'.  
  
Hyeong-bae lifts his gaze so they're eye to eye once more. He looks as if he might argue but he crumples at the last second. He lists forward until his head meets Jiyong's chest. He cries. Not a little but a lot. He cries in a way Jiyong has never _ever_ heard him do it. It's horrible and it only gets worse because in amongst his tears, Hyeong-bae _says_ things.  
  
'You're the only one who gives a shit about me. I don't have anybody. I have nothing. You're all I've got'.  
  
Jiyong's stomach sinks. For the first time since he saw Hyeong-bae's stricken face in the hallway, he remembers the plan. The vague attenuated plan to break up with him. Difficult before, impossible now. He holds the back of Hyeong-bae's head.  
  
'Don't say that'.  
  
_Please don't say that._  
  
'You're all I've got,' Hyeong-bae repeats. 'Please don't leave me.’

  
  
  
.

 


	28. Chapter 28

 

 

Hyeong-bae shuffles around the apartment, despondent. He takes time off work and sleeps all day. Jiyong can't find a way of helping except to stay out of his way. He reminds Hyeong-bae to eat and when. He nudges him when it's time to shower or shave and he hovers unimposingly for a lack of anything else to do.  
  
Hyeong-bae's grief is oppressive. It comes in waves and takes different forms until Jiyong feels drained simply by its proximity. He feels a resurgence of guilt for avoiding Seunghyun after his grandmother died. If it's so painful for someone with mixed feelings about their loved one, what was it like for Seunghyun who had loved unconditionally?  
  
Perhaps with him it might have felt different (if he had stuck around). Seunghyun's lows often felt like an extension of his own. Most of the time, he was able to shoulder them without problem. With Hyeong-bae there is an element of force; like he has stumbled into a stranger’s home and been forced to participate in something that doesn't concern him.  
  
It's a symptom of his changing attitude to their relationship. It makes his guilt stronger which in turn makes him patently resentful.

 

 

  
* * *

 

 

The time comes quickly for Youngbae and Daesung to be discharged but Jiyong worries about leaving Hyeong-bae alone. What if he throws himself off the balcony or hangs himself in the closet? Jiyong doesn't honestly believe he'll do either of those things, but in the days after his grandfather’s death, Hyeong-bae's mood changes without warning. He becomes erratic and unpredictable.  
  
He goes to the funeral but the attorney reschedules so the will is left up in the air. This seems to place an extra pressure on him. It becomes a dark cloud that fills up the apartment. He becomes bitter and resentful thinking about the potential outcome. Jiyong finds himself spending more and more time on the balcony, as if Hyeong-bae's bitterness and malaise is a physical thing he can choke on. When Jiyong tries to comfort him or understand his anger, he's met with hostility more than anything so he stops trying.  
  
When Hyeong-bae becomes soft again, and tender-- he tries to initiate intimacy but Jiyong can't go through with it, which only makes the tension between them worse. In one week, his nerves are shot from trying to predict Hyeong-bae's temperament. Home life becomes so unpredictable, it doesn't seem possible to get away in the end, not even for a few hours, not even for Youngbae.

 

 

*

 

 

  
In the end, it's Seungri's intervention that saves the day. Before Jiyong has the chance or even thinks to make contact, Seungri has done it and made arrangements. It's decided that Youngbae and Daesung will skip the big ceremony upon release. They'll silently slip out and spend time with their families before they see friends, even if they are _best friends._ The big reunion is postponed.   
  
Jiyong isn't expected to meet Youngbae when he is discharged, nor Seunghyun Daesung. They'll meet a few days later instead.  
  
Jiyong wallows for a bit, if only because it's unexpected. He always meant to enlist with Youngbae. He never thought they would spend four years apart. As kids, choosing to go in at the same time was a calculated way of sticking together as long as possible. It just didn't happen that way in the end.  
  
He wasn't ready when the time came. Youngbae wanted to go and he didn't. He changed his mind. Likewise Seunghyun wanted to work until he had no choice, clinging to normal life for as long as possible (in the end they both wasted their extra time). During those first few weeks, Jiyong harboured a lot of guilt, as if backing out of the childhood agreement was a knife in Youngbae's back.   
  
He hopes his decision was the right one. He and Seunghyun will enlist at the same time now. Before, they faced 3-4 years apart going in non-concurrently. Now that time shrinks to 18-24 months. In light of his recent revelations about Seunghyun and their possible future, that seems like precious time.   
  
So, instead of the original reunion, Seungri decides none of them will even _talk_ until a week after discharge. He plans a big party instead. He rents out a restaurant and sends out the invites and gives strict instructions for Seunghyun and Jiyong and the others to maintain radio silence with each other. He thinks the reunion will be more poignant if they do it face to face and maybe it will.  
  
It will be easier on Youngbae and Daesung, if they've already spent a week with their families (and girlfriends), to get drunk with friends late into the night without their attention being divided. It's not a bad idea. It gives Jiyong a little extra time to prepare himself and for things to settle down. He tries not to give Seungri too much credit over the phone but deep down he is grateful that he always comes through.

 

 

*  
  


In the ensuing days, Jiyong's relationship with Hyeong-bae is strained to breaking point. They get on each other’s nerves, each carrying their own private stresses. Jiyong mentions over lunch the new plan vis-a-vis Youngbae and Hyeong-bae's reaction is a certain grunt and a flippant answer, as if to say _'well you can't go. Things are happening HERE'._  
  
Except they're not. Nothing is happening except for the endless grief and the constant pitying bullshit about money and _the will_. Hyeong-bae's moods remain unpredictable. He will crack a joke and smile-- the next minute he'll brood and pace and stomp around. This makes Jiyong impossibly tired. He tries to weather it as best he can. Was he like this when Seunghyun first came home? Moping around like a madman, upset and then angry and a dozen emotions all at once? If this were Seunghyun, Jiyong would leave and slam and door and let things settle down except he can't because he lives here and there's no escaping one another.  
  
For Hyeong-bae, Jiyong tries to be nice--- nicer than nice. He wants their last days together to be as warm and pleasant as possible but the nicer he is, the more affection he shows, the more caring he is, the worse Hyeong-bae's mood becomes. He finds it suspicious. Accusations of cheating resurface during a fight over lunch and Jiyong is caught completely off guard. He blusters his way out of the room and sits on the lid of the toilet for 20 minutes while the shower fills the room with steam. This happens a lot in a short amount of time.  
  
So close to the end of their relationship, Jiyong finds it hard to defend himself the way he would have before. When Hyeong-bae cries or gets angry, Jiyong thinks about their time together. He thinks about the first movie they saw together. He thinks about the little raps Hyeong-bae would knock out when they were first getting acquainted. He thinks about the post-it notes Hyeong-bae would leave around the apartment when he needed reminders or encouragement or sympathy when he was sick. A fluro note stuck to his forehead saying _don't die_ somehow made all the difference when he felt like hell.  
  
They had a _lot_ of good times. There were bumps in the road and it wasn't always easy but it wasn't a year wasted. If Seunghyun had never come home, Jiyong thinks how different things would be. But Seunghyun _is_ home and he loves him. That makes him and Hyeong-bae impossible. It makes the last year a nice interlude but not much else.  
  
This reinforces his guilt.  
  
He wonders if what Hyeong-bae said the night he confronted him was true, about his being expendable once his necessity reached its use-by date. Jiyong wonders if that has made all the difference this week. If he hadn't decided to end their relationship, would he have more patience and compassion? Hyeong-bae has lost someone and instead of pushing through the difficulties, Jiyong buckles and resents them.  
  
For all the good memories, Jiyong wants Hyeong-bae out. He wants to bury their whole fucking relationship so he can suppress his guilt. So he can whitewash his choices. So he can stop feeling like such a monster. So he can sleep better at night. So he can stop being the kind of person who abandons someone when they most need his help. So he can be a terrible person with Seunghyun who _knows_ what he is and likes him anyway because he's made mistakes of his own.  
  
Jiyong finds himself counting down the days.

  
  
  
  
*  
  


 

When party day arrives, he wakes with butterflies in his stomach. The day passes in a dream. All he can think about is Youngbae. He paces for hours to while away time. He can't eat. He tries to watch cartoons but can't focus. He is a child on Christmas.  
  
A few hours out, Hyeong-bae asks why he's acting strangely and Jiyong tells him, 'because the party is tonight? I'm nervous'.  
  
The answer he gets back is an artfully dour, 'I thought you weren't going'.  
  
After this, Jiyong texts Seunghyun asking for a ride. They arrange to meet around the corner at eight and he spends the rest of the day shooting daggers into the back of Hyeong-bae's head. Grief or not, there are moments when he hates him. Moments when the last twelve months of shared happiness seem like a joke against a mere ten days of tension. It's unbelievable what different people they've become.  
  
At 7:45, Hyeong-bae is taking a nap so Jiyong leaves a note on the bedside table.   


 

  
* * *  
  
  


  
Seunghyun picks him up a little way down the block. Jiyong doesn't recognise the car in the dark, an inconspicuous but nice Maserati Ghibli. It takes Seunghyun's voice through the wound down window for Jiyong to recognise him. He slides into the passenger seat and closes the door, shirking off his hood and flattening down his hair.  
  
'How did you know it was me?'  
  
'Oh, was the hood a disguise?' Seunghyun jests. 'Your outfit costs $10,000 and you were doing that thing with your feet. You were not incognito, sorry to burst your bubble'.  
  
Jiyong frowns sourly and does up his seatbelt.  
  
'What is this?' he asks. 'This isn't the car you had two weeks ago. You had some white Hyundai'.  
  
'I haven't decided what I like yet,' Seunghyun answers, pulling into traffic, like that's a sound explanation for driving three cars in as many months.  
  
'So you'll just buy up cars until you find one that fits?'  
  
'I _lease_ them. Why do you think I have the money to _buy_ a dozen cars. I can't believe you thought I bought a Bugatti'.  
  
'You spent a million dollars on that painting in your bedroom and no offence, it's not that good so who am I to say where your money goes. Or your _monet?'_  
  
Seunghyun groans and Jiyong smiles in satisfaction. After the week he's had, it’s nice to have some of the pressure off. Small talk is heaven! In the easy silence that follows, he shrugs off his hoodie and throws it in the back-seat. He inspects the interior and deems the car nice enough but not Seunghyun's final choice. Overall it's a little domestic. When they hit the first wall of traffic and come to a stop, Seunghyun speaks first.  
  
'How's the break-up coming?'  
  
They've barely spoken since they last saw each other. A few hurried words over the phone while Jiyong was buying groceries. The rest of their communication has been routed through Seungri so there hasn't been any time to _talk_.  
  
Jiyong slumps down in his seat until the seatbelt cuts a tender line beneath his chin. Seunghyun turns for a moment.  
  
'That good, huh?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
'What's going on? Change your mind?'  
  
'No. It got complicated'.  
  
'How so?'  
  
'His grandfather died'.  
  
Jiyong scratches at the knee of his pants, annoyed. Seunghyun kicks out a short barking laugh and cops a scowl in response.  
  
'Sorry, that's not funny'.  
  
'No, it's _not'._  
  
Jiyong kricks his neck and rests his head against the window, flinching every time a bump in the road causes his forehead to smack against the glass. Seunghyun gathers himself.  
  
'Sorry. When did he die?'  
  
He sounds so sincere, Jiyong wonders if he didn't hop into the wrong car.  
  
'When I was at your house last'.  
  
Seunghyun laughs again.  
  
Jiyong feels the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. It's not _funny_. He feels a flush of irritation and turns the radio up. Seunghyun stomachs it for as long as he can (half of one song) then turns it back down, sending the radio back into the realm of ambient noise.  
  
'Sorry,' he says. 'That's just very _convenient'._  
  
'What does _that_ mean?'  
  
'Nothing'.  
  
'No, _tell_ me'.  
  
Jiyong eyes him searchingly but Seunghyun doesn't answer. He keeps his eyes on the car in front. He shrugs, indicating vaguely outside as if to say the answer is out there somewhere. Jiyong stares a hole in the side of his skull until Seunghyun speaks.  
  
'From what I've gleaned over the last few weeks, it seems like every time you make a choice to do something, a door gets shut in your face'.  
  
'And that's funny?'  
  
'Well, If you have to laugh or cry---'  
  
'I'll stick to crying, if it's all the same to you'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles.  
  
'I'll break up with him,' Jiyong continues. 'I just have to wait a little longer. I can't do it now after what's happened _._ What kind of person----' he peters out.  
  
He turns the radio up in lieu of finishing and Seunghyun lets him. For a while they sit in silence, letting one song usurp another as they stop and start in traffic. It feels bizarre to be driven through the city by Seunghyun of all people. Seunghyun, who was so precious he didn't like to sit in the front seat if the back was ever an option. The chauffeured becomes the chauffeur.   
  
When Jiyong next looks his way, Seunghyun is smiling still. Jiyong finds it obnoxious. Nothing he said was funny. Isn't Seunghyun directly affected by this too? If things had gone well they could have spent a few days together. If Seunghyun knew what a nightmare the past ten days have been or how _tired_ he is--- what a _toll_ all this is starting to take.  
  
'You're lucky I'm so mesmerised by your driving. Otherwise I might take offence at you laughing at my expense'.  
  
'Learning was all worth it then'.  
  
Jiyong huffs.  
  
'I can't believe you're my designated driver. I've fallen through the rabbit hole'.  
  
'Maybe'.  
  
'Are you going to be alright tonight? Everyone will be drinking. Why don't you tell everyone you're in AA? It would make things easier for you'.  
  
'It's private,' Seunghyun answers. 'I don't want anyone to know. It's fine'.  
  
'And you won't be tempted?'  
  
'I'll be fine'.  
  
Jiyong wonders whether or not to take that at face value before realising he doesn't have a choice. It's not his place to tell anyone _the big secret_ and despite regretting their last sojourn to a bar together, this isn't an ordinary night. These are special circumstances. Seungri worked hard organising this party. If they can hold it together for a few hours, it should be a nice night. Still, he worries.  
  
'If you _don't_ feel fine at any point, tell me'.  
  
'I _will._ Please stop talking now'.  
  
'Alright. Are you nervous?' Jiyong asks.  
  
'I thought you were going to stop talking?'  
  
'I did for a second. So-- _are_ you? Frankly,' he says, 'I think you'll cry'.  
  
'Me? I think _you'll_ cry'.  
  
'You're going to see Daesung's face and _weep,'_ Jiyong taunts. He makes cry-baby noises, rubbing his eyes with affected hurt.  
  
'That's rich,' Seunghyun answers. 'I'd stake my life on you making a big scene. I bet you a million dollars that you cry your eyes out’.  
  
'A million dollars?' Jiyong repeats. 'What are the terms of such a lucrative bet?'  
  
Seunghyun _um's and ah's_ until Jiyong takes the initiative.  
  
'How about, If I cause a bigger scene than you, I'll blow you afterwards?'  
  
'Seems like you'll win either way with those conditions,' Seunghyun answers boldly. 'And If I lose?'  
  
'I'll fuck you'.  
  
'Now it seems like I'll win either way'.  
  
'It's a real win win situation,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'Alright,' Seunghyun says. 'Deal. Even though we both know I'm driving you straight home later so none of this is going to happen'.  
  
He smiles a cheesy smile and Jiyong pulls a tired face. Of course. Responsibility. Morals. Dead relatives. None conducive to them sleeping together. They can't even _sleep_ together--- can't even do something as innocent as sleep. Though Jiyong supposes, as they turn off the next street, that spooning is more intimate than sex. If he had to choose between a lifetime of sleeping beside Seunghyun or fucking him whenever he wanted, he would choose the former. He would rather wake every day with his face in Seunghyun's armpit than never have the privilege.   
  
'If you had to choose between sleeping with me for the rest of your life or fucking me, which would you pick?' Jiyong asks spontaneously. 'If fucking meant we could never sleep next to each other. Sleeping beside each other without ever having sex versus having sex without ever sleeping in the same bed?'  
  
'Is this like the time you asked if I would murder someone for you?' Seunghyun asks, slowing behind the car in front.  
  
'I like hypotheticals. Humour me'.  
  
'Then sleep I suppose'.  
  
Jiyong can't suppress a smile.  
  
The car in front stops at a red light and Seunghyun turns his head to face him. He looks relaxed while driving. Waiting, he rests two fingers on the bottom of the steering wheel, his other hand on his knee.  
  
'You wouldn't choose sleep?' he asks.  
  
'I'll never tell'.  
  
  


*

 

  
  
When they arrive at the restaurant there is a parking space with his name on it, literally. A reserved sign shares space with a piece of paper. GD is scrawled in black marker. There is one for Seunghyun on the other side, TOP written disjointedly. Seunghyun parks in the _GD_ space.  
  
From inside the car they can hear the music belting loudly from inside. Tea lights are strung up around the whole exterior, slung through and over trees and snaked down windows. Jiyong has never been here before. Suddenly his anxieties rear up and he can't get out of the car.  
  
'Are you okay?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'What if things aren't the same?' Jiyong answers, staring ahead at his sign. His eyes trace the letters of his eponymous nickname. What if Youngbae has changed? What if he found a new best friend while he was gone? Jiyong airs all his fears in a breathless torrent until Seunghyun rolls his eyes and opens the driver’s side door.  
  
'You've been best friends since you could piss without a parent chaperoning you. You were probably best friends in a past life. Please get out of the car and go sob on each other. Don't be stupid'.  
  
Jiyong is rankled but Seunghyun's words have the desired effect. He gets out of the car and heads for the door, gravel crunching under their feet. Seunghyun pushes the door open for him and falls back so Jiyong walks in alone. The sound and lights and bodies hit him like a wave. They disorient him. Then it all fades.  
  
At his entrance, a sea of bodies in the middle of the restaurant part instinctively until Jiyong can see him on the other side. _Youngbae!_ Like Moses parting the red sea, bodies separate until there's nothing between them but floor. They spot each other at the same time.  
  
Youngbae hands his drink to a friend just in time because Jiyong loses his bet with Seunghyun in an instant. Youngbae's name tears out of him and he runs across the room in half a second flat. It's like a thousand birthdays come at once. There aren't words for how he feels.  
  
He jumps on Youngbae and they stumble back, tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs. He wraps himself around Youngbae on the ground like an octopus and doesn't let go. After a few moments, Youngbae squeezes back so tightly it physically hurts and that's all it takes for Jiyong's childish worries to dissipate. He cries his fucking eyes out.  
  
Mutual friends give them room. He hears them cooing and cheering in the background like they are long lost lovers reunited at last. Jiyong cries into Youngbae's shoulder. He can't stop himself. He doesn't want to. He's earned these tears.  
  
'I fucking missed you so much'.  
  
'Same'.  
  
'I really love you'.  
  
_'I love you too'.  
_  
  
  


*

 

 

When Jiyong drags himself off the floor, Daesung appears in front of him with red and watering eyes. Jiyong pulls him into a hug so tightly his arms hurt. They only stay upright thanks to Daesung's post-army muscles, which even in the midst of his hysteria, Jiyong can't fail to notice.  
  
'I missed you. It's so fucking good to see you'.  
  
Daesung answers the same and they do a little spin, lost in their embrace. Jiyong has always liked hugs but these are two of the best he's ever had. He wants each of them to last a lifetime.  
  
When they finally separate, Jiyong catches the final moments of a hug between Seunghyun and Youngbae. When they move away from each other he can see Seunghyun's face is red and wet. They make eye contact and Jiyong gives a subtle smile of mutual understanding.  
  
When things have settled, they sit around a table together where Seungri joins them with drinks and _more_ hugs, though he's already done the rounds. Seunghyun pushes his drink away, says something in Seungri's ear and no drink comes near him for the rest of the night. It's a welcome relief.  
  
Everything goes smoothly.  
  
Daesung and Youngbae talk about their time away, what they did and how they felt. They saw each other semi regularly so a lot of their stories are the same. Jiyong notices a new camaraderie between them that wasn't there before. They both look different in a way. Youngbae seems bigger and louder and Daesung does too. They were both fit before but there is extra bulk to their shoulders and arms. They look different with their hair cropped. Even though Jiyong was there when they first went away, he forgot what they looked like freshly shaved and nervous. Now, they are both hardened but still themselves. Different but the same. He wonders what he'll be like when he comes out--- what _Seunghyun_ will be like.  
  
Youngbae nudges him a few times, brings up their own impending enlistments and Jiyong changes the subject. He doesn't want to talk about it. He's scared. He shouldn't be. He's a grown man and every man in the whole damn country has to do it, but he's scared anyway. He's terrified, not just for the army itself but for the life he won't get to live while he's gone and the life he will have to rebuild when he gets out.  
  
Seungri moves from table to table ensuring the party is a raging success and he does it well. Everyone is happy. Everything goes great. Though they can't talk too intimately in such a loud and public place, Jiyong's fears and anxieties are lifted. He knows he and Youngbae are still best friends.  
  
He feels so many things about having Youngbae back, when it's time for him to give a speech and people are calling for it, he can't say anything. He chokes up and waves it off and leaves Seunghyun to give a weird, typically misunderstood speech. Thankfully everyone is drunk so he gets the laughs he may or may not have wanted.   
  
At the end of the night, drunk but not quite drunk enough, Jiyong hugs each of them one last time before being shepherded into Seunghyun's car. Planted in the front seat he hears everyone's disbelief that Seunghyun can drive now and Jiyong wants to shout _hear hear!_ _A big surprise indeed._ He thinks if only they knew all the other secrets and changes that happened in their absence.  
  
Eventually Seunghyun extricates himself from the group and they leave the party with promises to all see each other again ASAP. Past midnight, Jiyong stares out his window at the bright lights of the city rushing by. The radio is on low. They don't talk to each other on the drive back. Jiyong doesn't think about that. His mind is a million miles away.  
  
When Seunghyun pulls up at the same corner he picked him up at, Jiyong just squeezes his hand for a minute and gets out. He doesn't remember saying goodbye.   
  
  
  


* * *  
  
  


  
When he fumbles his way into the apartment, his face is flushed and cold from the night air. Having to walk half a block to get to his building in the middle of the night seemed like a prudent idea in theory but he left his hoodie in the backseat of Seunghyun's car and his skin burns from the cold. His thighs itch. He craves a hot bath.  
  
The lights are off but for the hallway light and a blue glow diffused in the lounge room. Jiyong can see as he draws closer, the silhouette of Hyeong-bae's back. He is sitting on the coffee table in the centre of the room, facing the TV on standby.  
  
The atmosphere in the room is foreboding. Jiyong sobers up instantly. It's like diving into an icy lake or a cold bath. He can't explain it. He crosses the dining room to get to the lounge and his mind sharpens exponentially until every cell in his body is alert.  
  
When he stops behind the armchair, Hyeong-bae speaks without turning around.  
  
'I got your note,' he says vacantly.  
  
'I didn't want to wake you'.  
  
Jiyong almost apologises but he stops himself. He wonders if something happened while he was away. Whenever he has a modicum of fun or peace or freedom, he comes home to doom and gloom and some extraneous part of his life blowing up. Perhaps in the five hours he was out living his life, Hyeong-bae's entire family died in a plane crash or Sweden sank into the ocean. If that happened, Hyeong-bae would still be sitting here in the dark like a petulant child with a grudge.  
  
That's what this is, Jiyong thinks. The mood swings and the anger and the guilt and the bitterness and the grief haven't left him yet. They've transformed Hyeong-bae into a child, or exacerbated traits that were already in him. Self-serving and narcissistic but pitiful at the same time, that's how he's been for the last 10 days. Completely unlike himself. He's probably bitter and angry that he was left on his own.  
  
When Jiyong went downstairs on the weekend to buy food, Hyeong-bae criticised him when he came back. _We have food here, why did you go out? What were you doing?_ Never mind that the only food they had was ramen and Jiyong was sick to fucking death of it. For a week and a half he has let it all go because he's never experienced death. He doesn't know what it's like. He would want people to be understanding if their roles were reversed, if he became a different person for a while---  
  
'Did you feel guilty for going out?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong grimaces and stares at the ceiling.  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'But you went anyway?'  
  
_'Yes'._  
  
His jaw clenches. He wasn't out satisfying a selfish whim. He wasn't seeing a movie or eating fried chicken with friends out of boredom or a longing to get out of the house and away from the oppressive _sadness_. Hyeong-bae speaks to him like he's too self-absorbed to recognise the seriousness of death. As if he lacks human empathy. They have been together for a _year,_ Hyeong-bae should _understand_ how important it was to go. How important Youngbae _is_ to him. Enough to let him go for a few measly hours.  
  
'I missed my best friend. I wanted to see him'.  
  
In the blue glow of the TV, there is something about Hyeong-bae's attitude and his childishness that eats through the last of Jiyong's patience. For a moment he is repulsed by him. Repulsed by the fact that he's here despite his suspicions, by the fact he hasn't had the backbone or dignity to leave.  
  
In this moment Jiyong has so little feeling left for Hyeong-bae, it surprises him. For a minute, he almost hates him; for the way he makes him feel about himself. For all the choices he has been forced to make out of loyalty and guilt. He hates Hyeong-bae for all the lines he has crossed since knowing him. For the person he has become while dating him. He hates him because he loved him and he doesn't any more.   
  
Jiyong slumps down into the armchair and says something he should have said weeks ago.  
  
'We need to talk'.  
  
It isn't the right time but there'll never _be_ a right time. Why delay the inevitable? How can it hurt more now than two weeks from today? On some level, Hyeong-bae already knows this is happening. He has to.   
  
Jiyong thinks up a dozen ways to say what needs saying. He wavers between the speech you're meant to give, _we're just different people now and sometimes things don't work out. I need to focus on me now._ Then he wonders if short and sweet wouldn't work out better. _I don't love you anymore. At least not the way you love me. I think we've both known for a while that this was going to happen._  
  
'Talk about what?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Their eyes meet. For the first time it's clear they're on the same page. There is shared recognition. _This is happening._ Only the words Jiyong has to say don't come. He doesn't get the chance to give his speech. Instead, Hyeong-bae turns his back to him, cutting off a potential opening. Jiyong bristles.  
  
'I don't know who you are this week. You're like a completely different person'.  
  
'How disappointing for you,' Hyeong-bae answers.  
  
At the same time, he does something on his phone and a video starts on the TV. The room glows a faint white. Jiyong sees the black cord coming from the back of the screen, stretched out like a bridge between the television and Hyeong-bae's lap. His mind is in five places at once. He doesn't see what's playing until he hears himself. When he looks at the screen, his blood runs cold. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end.  
  
_On the screen he laughs. He is in his bedroom getting dressed. His shirt is caught over his head. It's stuck to his back, still wet from a shower. It takes time to wriggle free. While he's working on it-- Hyeong-bae talks to him. He baits him. He says things for which the answers are too telling. The Jiyong on screen uses the phrase, '_ next time you fuck me---- _'_  
  
Jiyong stares at the screen and his eyes widen in cold surprise. This video blind-sides him. He is speechless. The clip ends quickly. Another takes its place of him in a similar situation, vulnerable and oblivious. His skin _crawls._ On the screen, it's him but it's not. He watches himself do things he simply doesn't remember. As if his body was taken over by someone else. The images fill him with dread.  
  
He sits silently, watching a chain of short clips of himself unawares, until the last comes to an end; a few seconds of his sleeping face with Hyeong-bae's hand in view. The most innocent of all but obvious to anyone that he's in bed with a man and not in a platonic friendly kind of way.  
  
When they finish Hyeong-bae unplugs his phone and places it carefully beside his foot on the ground. It's only now that Jiyong realises these were taken on Hyeong-bae's phone. Private moments captured without him knowing. It seems impossible there could be so many. The screen turns blue and fills the room with a sickening glow.  
  
'Delete them. _All of them'._  
  
'Why would I do that?' Hyeong-bae asks with contempt. 'Are you afraid that I'll show someone?'  
  
He turns so Jiyong can see his face in profile, only partially illuminated.  
  
'What reason could I _have_ for breaking your trust?'   
  
Jiyong's heart almost stops in his chest.  
  
Are these videos mementos or has Hyeong-bae been saving them as collateral, as ammunition in case things turned sour? The last clip couldn't have been three weeks old, when he must have known things were turning out badly.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
Not mementos.  
  
He feels like a marionette with all its strings suddenly cut but one. Just _one_ of these videos would be enough to destroy him, let alone a dozen. If they were innocent they wouldn't all individually give him away. They wouldn't all have the capacity to ruin his life. They were filmed in secret, chosen specifically for the damage they could do. Every one shows him in a compromising position. _Every one._  
  
If he doesn't tread carefully, Hyeong-bae might use these moments against him. Jiyong feels the cold barrel of a gun against the back of his neck. One wrong move and _everything_ goes away.  
  
For a moment he feels a swell of rage. He'll end it right now. He won't be a _hostage._ Dispatch won't publish these videos. The fallout would be too great. This must have happened to celebrities before him but it's never been on a front page or in a tabloid paper. That means something. For all the gossip unleashed each day, there has always been a line.  
  
Then he shrinks. All it would take is for Hyeong-bae to share one video on one website and the world would know in minutes. It wouldn't just destroy him but everyone he cares about. Anyone who has ever come into contact with him. The entire company would fold. The devastation wouldn't end until he killed himself and he might just. He would lose everything and everyone.  
  
The fight goes out of him in an instant. This isn't a battle he can win. Most scandals can be navigated with the right steps and the right numbers on a cheque. If these videos are revenge, there's no way for him to protect himself.  
  
He suddenly understands the implacable tension over the last ten days. At some point, maybe the exact moment his grandfather died, or maybe that first night when he wanted to fuck and Jiyong gave an excuse, maybe _that_ was when Hyeong-bae made this decision. It was just a matter of timing. Months of suspicion of dissatisfaction come to a head. Or maybe he _knows_ something now that he didn't before. Maybe he found something in the house. Maybe he actually knows everything, not just suspects but _knows_ somehow.  
  
Jiyong slumps down in his seat, dazed. Without anything being explicitly said, he knows exactly what's going on. He knows the trap he has fallen into. It's so unbelievable but he sinks into this reality like it's familiar or expected. His brain postpones the panic and the emotion and tries to skip 10 steps ahead into what needs hearing and saying and doing most. _  
  
I fucked up, how do I fix it?_  
  
'What do you want?' Jiyong asks.  
  
_Money, a car, a house, an apology--- for me to grovel at your feet and beg for mercy?_ Jiyong hesitates to ask the full question for fear of giving him ideas. Part of him thinks _I've got it all wrong, I'm still drunk. This is crazy. He'll ask me what I mean and smile and everything will go back to normal. Everything will be okay._  
  
When Hyeong-bae answers, his voice is damning.  
  
'There's nothing I want from you any more'.  
  
These words are the death blow. They are what dig the grave Jiyong will be made to step into. Whatever Hyeong-bae does or doesn't know, he's had enough. Enough of the ambiguity and the suspicions and Jiyong is rankled by that. _I've barely done anything._  
  
Then he remembers how long it's been since Seunghyun came home and how the second he saw him, everything changed. From the constant stress and hurt and pain from old wounds reopened, right through to earlier when Seunghyun picked him up around the corner--- he was changed. Maybe he was never fully present with Hyeong-bae after that. Even when they were together most, wasn't that a calculated way of pushing Seunghyun further away? It was always about Seunghyun. All of it.   
  
Maybe Hyeong-bae always sensed that and hoped that it would go away one day or that it wasn't really happening. Maybe his grandfather’s death pushed him over the edge.  
  
Or maybe, the way Jiyong lied his way through their relationship, Hyeong-bae has lied too. Maybe the feelings were never there for him. Maybe he was playing the long-game right from the start, waiting for this moment when he could show his cards and play his hand, demanding money or whatever else. _  
  
Fuck._  
  
Except he isn't asking for money. He isn't asking for anything. The videos are a threat but there's no ransom. No demands. He isn't _saying_ anything.  
  
Jiyong's mind spins.  
  
He wonders if the videos on Hyeong-bae's phone are the only copies. Are there back-ups? If he gets his hands on that phone and deletes them, will that make a difference or will Hyeong-bae pull a USB drive out of his pocket and upload every video to youtube and naver and weibo simultaneously. Is there a way out of this or can he only buy time?  
  
Jiyong thinks about all the genuinely nice moments they've shared over the past year. He thinks about Hyeong-bae on that mountain in Jirisan. He thinks about his face on the night they first shared the same bed. He remembers him back when they were only friends and Hyeong-bae would show up at the door, trying to drag him out. Jiyong remembers splashing water in his face at the beach at Jeju. He wonders if those moments were real. If all those smiles between them were genuine or if they were both acting different roles. Even now, it would crush him to know the past year has been a lie. Even if it was always a lie for himself, he didn't _know_ that. He had good intentions until the end.  
  
Maybe that doesn't matter.  
  
If it _was_ real, Jiyong wonders which of his mistakes was the final straw. He waited too long to end things. He kept hoping things would resolve themselves. Everything would work out if he just held on. He wanted the situation taken out of his hands and now it has been. Now Hyeong-bae holds all the cards and the moral high-ground too.  
  
'What happens now?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Hyeong-bae sighs and turns off the TV so they are sitting in near-darkness. The only light reaching them is filtered through the door. Jiyong feels his skin scrawl in the dark.  
  
'Now?' Hyeong-bae answers. 'Now, I'm going to bed'.  
  
He stands and Jiyong stands too, reluctant to be trapped in an arm-chair. There is an element of fear now. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what happens next. Hyeong-bae moves around him as if he isn't there and leaves. It provides little comfort. Moments later, the sound of running water comes from the ensuite. Hyeong-bae is brushing his teeth.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
_How can he go to bed? What happens now? What does he want?_  
  
Jiyong finds himself unable to follow him, unable to demand clear answers for fear of pissing Hyeong-bae off. He is vulnerable. Every decision he makes from this moment might cost him everything.

 

 

  
*

 

 

He finds himself at the front door, staring at the handle. He can't be expected to stay here. How can they stand under the same roof? He wants to leave but what are the ramifications of that? If he walks out this door to breathe and to _think_ will he come back to find his answering machine full of messages; company, friends, family, media--- ' _are these videos online really you?'_  
  
His feet are rooted to the spot. Freedom is one step away but that would require a choice and any choice he makes might be the one that kills him. He must stand there for twenty minutes before Hyeong-bae approaches from the hall. He maintains a reasonable distance. Jiyong doesn't look at him. He can't.  
  
'Where are you going?'  
  
'Nowhere yet,' Jiyong hesitates. 'Am I _allowed_ to go out?'  
  
Hyeong-bae makes a quiet sound, amused.  
  
'Of course. Maybe you _should_ go out for while'.  
  
'I could use a drink,' Jiyong says coolly.   
  
He wonders if this is how abductors and kidnappers talk to their victims. If there's always a pretence of rationality. If things continue this way, Jiyong thinks he might go crazy. He wants to figure this out _now_. He wants answers. He wants to know what it's going to take to protect himself. He wants to know exactly what Hyeong-bae plans to do with those videos. He wants to know what Hyeong-bae _knows._  
  
He hesitates to ask.  
  
Hyeong-bae has all the power here. He holds all the cards. If Jiyong doesn't navigate this carefully, he'll sink and take everyone with him. Maybe he can cosy up to him, work himself back into Hyeong-bae's affections. Find out what happened. Convince him this has all been a crazy misunderstanding. Find out if there are copies. Delete the ones on his phone.  
  
'That sounds like a good idea. Go get a _drink,_ ' Hyeong-bae says with emphasis. 'Why don't you spend the night at _the bar'._  
  
Jiyong knows what the tone is for, the double meaning in his words. He's talking about Seunghyun; the _other lady_ he's concocted in his mind. The seedy place he imagines Jiyong goes every time he leaves the house.   
  
'I get the feeling you won't be _drinking_ there any more,' Hyeong-bae continues bitterly, 'so have one last round on me'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces and his face contorts with hurt.  
  
In a few words, Hyeong-bae has passed him the ransom note. This is the threat? If Jiyong sees Seunghyun beyond tonight, Hyeong-bae will ruin him? He has the means and the motive. It's not so crazy. He must know something. This is too extreme for suspicion. He found something. He must have.  
  
Hyeong-bae can't believe they will fall into old routines without the other woman in the picture so this is just a punishment, plain and simple. A way to hurt him because _he_ was hurt. There's no guarantee that if Jiyong does what he wants, he won't release the videos anyway. Even if Jiyong follows the rules, it's not sustainable. Sooner or later, things will come to a bloody head.  
  
'Are you really going through with this?' Jiyong asks, looking at him for the first time.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles wanly.  
  
'Funny,' he says. 'I kept thinking the same of you'.

 

  
  
  
*  
  


 

  
In the hall outside, waiting for the elevator, Jiyong feels a hardened shell crackle into existence around him. An ablative second skin. On some level he must have been preparing for this his entire life. The moment his career took off he began unconsciously to fortify himself against the possibility that things wouldn't end quietly but with a bang.   
  
He remembers the _fear_ he felt when he called the overnight Doctor for Hyeong-bae; his sinking worry that their relationship was obvious, that his living arrangement would dominate the search engines the next day. How stupid he was to fear _that,_ when all this time the bomb was in his bed and in his own head making his poor decisions, making him blind to the situation he was putting himself in. Hyeong-bae has his finger on the trigger but Jiyong built the gun and put it in his hands. He has done this to himself.  
  
The elevator closes behind him and Jiyong regards his reflection in the mirrored doors. He is a stupid little boy dressed like a man. How normal he felt at Seunghyun's house a week ago. How adult he felt thinking about their possible future together and throwing caution to the wind at long last _.  
_  
If Hyeong-bae uses these videos, Seunghyun will never speak to him again. That little future he had started to plan around the mess of their present will never happen. In his pursuit of Seunghyun, he may have ruined both of their lives forever. Maybe everything that's happened between them wasn't a test or bad luck but Karma or God or something warning him away, _this is a very bad idea_ \--- and he ignored it all.  
  
Romantic, the idea of pursuing love at all costs, until it blows up in your face and kills everyone. He and Seunghyun were never going to live happily ever after in a shared home by the water. All the same, even facing this disaster, he wants that still. He wants to make this go away so he can have that idyllic dream life. He wants the _chance_ to give it a try.  
  
When he reaches his car, he knows how fucking insane it is to drive to Seunghyun's house but he finds himself headed that way anyway. He takes the long way, circuitous residential streets help to reassure him Hyeong-bae hasn't followed him somehow. He is struck by paranoia.  
  
He has nowhere else to go--- well, that's not true anymore is it. He could go anywhere but he doesn't want to go anywhere. He just wants to see Seunghyun. He wants to talk to him, not about this, never this. Just normal stuff. Small talk. He wants normalcy. He needs to pretend for a few hours that this isn't happening. That this is just a bad dream. Only in a dream could he get so close to what he wanted, only to have it taken away at the final hour.  
  
But that keeps happening doesn't it.

 

 

  
* * *  


 

 

When Seunghyun answers the door he looks tired and dishevelled. Jiyong suddenly remembers what time it is and feels bad for disturbing him, and what for? So they can _talk?_  
  
'What are you doing here? How did you _get_ here?'  
  
Seunghyun sticks his head out the door and looks down into the yard where Jiyong's car is.  
  
'You drove here? You're probably still drunk!'  
  
'Maybe,' Jiyong answers. 'I wasn't thinking. I forgot'.  
  
'You forgot? What's going on?'  
  
Jiyong bristles at the interrogation.   
  
'My guy left a note,' Jiyong lies, pained. 'He won't be home tonight. After our night together, I guess I just wanted to spend the rest of it with you. I didn't think you would be asleep yet. I'm sorry if I woke you'.  
  
Seunghyun softens a little but there's something in his manner. He seems distant. Not as warm as he was earlier in the night. Jiyong wants to chalk it up to tiredness but it doesn't feel like that. They didn't really talk in the car on the way home. Maybe there was something to it.  
  
'Call me next time,' Seunghyun says. 'Or take a taxi. Don't drink and drive, please'.  
  
Jiyong grimaces but steps inside the apartment when Seunghyun makes a space. The lights in the apartment are off except for the one in Seunghyun's bedroom. Jiyong trails after him and kicks his shoes off at the foot of the bed.  
  
'I was reading,' Seunghyun explains quietly. 'I'm not really in the mood for any--- well, you know. Is it okay if we just sleep?'  
  
Jiyong crawls onto his side of the bed and kicks his jeans off before wriggling under the blanket. Seunghyun watches him, still standing on the other side.  
  
'Sure,' Jiyong answers. 'I'm pretty tired. If you were reading, go back to it. Pretend I'm not even here'.  
  
And that's exactly what happens. Jiyong rolls to face the wall so Seunghyun doesn't feel pressured to talk to him and Seunghyun reads his book by lamplight. It wasn't what Jiyong had in mind when he drove here, but maybe it was. He wanted normalcy. This is as normal as things get. This is a safe space. He finds his eyes start to water in the dark and his stomach aches from stress--- then _nothing._ Some switch inside him is turned off and he doesn't feel it any more. He just blocks it out.  
  
After that, he doesn't think about Hyeong-bae or what happened at home or the bomb now strapped to his chest. Listening to the pages of Seunghyun's book turn at regular intervals, he finds himself falling asleep. The bed moulds around him like a pair of warm arms. He didn't know how _tired_ he was, so eager to _wake up._

  


  
*  
  


 

He wakes some time later with the light still on. Two hours have passed. It's almost 4am. Seunghyun is still beside him, reading--- though when Jiyong rolls over it seems more like he's staring into space. When he doesn't turn the page after a few minutes, Jiyong reaches out and prods his hip. Seunghyun jumps, startled.  
  
'Did I wake you?' he asks.  
  
'No, but you seem weird. Are you okay?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles wanly and Jiyong doesn't buy it for a second, even with his eyes bleary from sleep and half of Seunghyun's face in shadow. He's not himself.  
  
'You want to answer that again?'  
  
'No'.  
  
Seunghyun focuses on his book so intently it could burst into flames. He turns a page for effect. It's not convincing. Jiyong drags himself into a sitting position. He's quietly mortified by how cold he is suddenly.  
  
He doesn't say anything to cajole Seunghyun into talking, he takes another route. He stares. He watches him carefully, at all his little discomfitures. The way his jaw tightens and his throat bobs a few too many times. Jiyong catalogues every blatant show and lie in Seunghyun's posture until he snaps.  
  
_'What?_ Stop looking at me like that! _'_  
  
'What's the matter?' he asks again. 'Did something happen at the party earlier? You didn't talk on the drive home'.  
  
'Nothing happened'.  
  
'So what is it?'  
  
Seunghyun's jaw tightens. Jiyong _stares_ again. It's surprisingly effective. It's obvious how much it gets beneath Seunghyun's skin. Jiyong lets those inner demons do all the talking until Seunghyun slams his book shut and turns in the bed, furious or just patently frustrated. Jiyong cuts him off before he can say anything.  
  
'Don't even think about snapping at me. I haven't done anything. Whatever you're upset about, just _talk_ about it,' he says, 'you'll feel better'.  
  
Seunghyun groans in irritation and clenches his fists against his face while he works out his frustration inwardly. It takes a minute. Jiyong watches the tension eke out slowly. Seunghyun's knuckles go from white back to their normal colour. His shoulders slacken.  
  
Seunghyun slumps down in the bed, throwing his book onto the floor. He mirrors Jiyong's earlier position and slides right down until the blanket is tucked beneath his chin. He looks like a child hiding from monsters in the closet.  
  
'So what's up?' Jiyong asks tenderly.  
  
'Nothing,' Seunghyun answers. 'That's the _problem'._  
  
Jiyong shuffles closer, still sitting against the headboard. He brushes the hair from Seunghyun's forehead and waits for him to talk. It doesn't happen right away. It takes time for him to find the words to explain. The wait isn't uncomfortable. Jiyong finds it a relief to focus on someone else’s life. Someone else’s problem.  
  
'I think I spent a lot of time thinking I would be different when Dae came home. I would feel all these things and be insanely happy and life would go back to the way it was before,' Seunghyun says eventually. 'I don't know why I thought that. I was already falling apart before he left. I don't know why I thought he would _fix_ it. I don't know what I thought would happen when I saw him'.  
  
Jiyong takes this in.  
  
'I was so happy to see him,' Seunghyun clarifies. 'I _was_ but not all night. When I first saw him I felt things, _proper_ things but that didn't last. After a while the feelings lost their spark. I was listening to him talk at the table and I felt nothing. It's been almost two years and I still can't _feel_ properly. It's like I'm trapped in a fucking box. I'm a fucking Parisian mime. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm trying so hard to _fix_ it,' Seunghyun whispers. 'I've been doing everything I'm supposed to do. Can't I spend one fucking night _happy_ to have my best friend back? Why is that so much to ask? Huh? Why can't I do something as simple as that?'  
  
Jiyong's eyes cloud in sympathy and he strokes Seunghyun's forehead with his thumb. It's been obvious with all of Seunghyun's little endeavours and side projects lately that he hasn't been put back together yet. Just because he smiles when they're together doesn't mean he's better. If he was, he wouldn't need to see a psychologist once a week, he wouldn't need to go to two AA meetings a week, he wouldn't _run_ the way he does. That emptiness he felt when he left the country still dogs him here. Not as much, but enough to upset him still. It must be strange to be upset about not being upset--- to have feelings about not having them. This is first time in weeks that Seunghyun has shown his cracks.  
  
Jiyong feels guilty for not paying attention to him in the car. Seunghyun didn't say a word on the drive home, he should have noticed he was upset. Now, trying to bury his face in the blankets, Seunghyun makes a tearful confession.  
  
'I don't want to be _broken_ forever'.  
  
Jiyong's face contorts in pain and his hand stills in Seunghyun's hair.  
  
'You’re not _broken'_.  
  
'Then what am I?'  
  
'Depressed,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'What's the difference?'  
  
'Nothing to you I suppose, but it makes a difference to me. You're not broken Seunghyun. You're the same person you always were, you're just having a rough time. This can happen to anyone. It _does_ happen. If it were me instead, you would _never_ tell me I was broken _._ It's like fracturing a leg. You need time to heal'.  
  
'It's not like breaking a fucking leg'.  
  
'It is,' Jiyong answers. 'It's exactly the same. Bones, brain, whatever. You need to heal and that takes _time_. I know it's already felt like a lifetime but it won't always be like this. You're doing all the right things. You've got to have a little faith. Life will get easier'.  
  
'I'm not big on faith'.  
  
'So try and have some in _me,_ ' Jiyong answers. 'You're changing. You can't see it but it's happening. Slow progress is progress. What you felt tonight? Don't think you're broken because of that. I felt the same way,' Jiyong says. 'I cried and carried on, but after a while, it was like the others never left. It felt normal being with them. I felt guilty for not being more emotional'.  
  
Seunghyun looks up at him, doubting.  
  
'I mean if you're broken, I am too. I think it's okay to feel a bit disconnected. We haven't seen them for a long time but we've known them for half our lives. After the initial excitement, it was just kind of--- business as usual. Old friends who see each other all the time. That's okay, I think'.  
  
Seunghyun sighs quietly and stares back at his former place on the ceiling.  
  
'Maybe,' he mutters.  
  
'Maybe?' Jiyong asks. 'It almost sounds like you believe me'.  
  
'It's easier not to argue'.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and shimmies under the blankets. He rolls onto his side and shares the end of Seunghyun's pillow.  
  
'Wilful, independent Choi Seunghyun admitting defeat? I can't believe it'.  
  
Seunghyun turns his head.  
  
'Let’s not make a big deal out of it'.  
  
'I'm sorry, but that's impossible,' Jiyong answers seriously. 'I need to have a banner made and maybe hire a sky-writer. I'll have to write into the newspaper---'  
  
Seunghyun kisses him to quiet him and Jiyong lets him, surprised by the sudden contact. It's a chaste kiss but Jiyong relaxes into it. When they separate, he sweeps the hair from Seunghyun's forehead.  
  
'You're not broken'.  
  
Seunghyun grimaces.  
  
'Yeah, alright'.  
  
'Say it'.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his eyes but seeing Jiyong is serious, he acquiesces, albeit in a tone more suited for a child.  
  
'I'm not _broken'._  
  
Something catches in Jiyong's throat at this.  
  
It's such a small moment. In the whole complicated tapestry of their lives, this is one millimetre of one thread but this is when he most wants to tell Seunghyun that he loves him. Not the way he did those first few years but in a new way. One which has longevity. One which survives the army and long after. One which endures the highs and growing lows. With his fingers in Seunghyun's hair, he can almost muster the courage to have that conversation with his family, _'I've got to tell you something about me. I don't know how you'll feel about it but I hope you understand'._  
  
Even with these videos capable of destroying _everything_ , it's easy to pretend how close that better life might be. Sometimes, in the face of disaster, it's pitifully easy to choose to look around it.  
  
'You okay?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
_'I'm fine'._  
  
And maybe that's a lie but he _will_ be fine. He'll find a way out of this situation. He has to-- for Seunghyun. Seunghyun who is fighting tooth and nail to get his life back, who is strong and resilient and brave. Jiyong can't let his fucking mistakes ruin Seunghyun's life. He can't be the reason all of Seunghyun's hard work is undone. He can't be the reason his _own_ life goes up in smoke. 15 years of hard work come to nothing because he was confused and selfish and made a mistake?  
  
He leans in and kisses Seunghyun or kisses the side of his mouth anyway.  
  
'I love you,' he says.  
  
Against Seunghyun's parted lips Jiyong says something he needs to be true.  
  
'Things are going to be okay'.  


 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

  
  
  
Jiyong wakes while it's still painfully early, to an empty bed. It's only 8am and Seunghyun is gone. The sheets are cool. The ensuite door is open and the bathroom empty. While Jiyong goes through the motions of waking up, the apartment is silent. Seunghyun isn't holed up somewhere playing music or watching television. Jiyong wonders if he hasn't left; if he had somewhere he had to be. It seems unlikely. They only went to sleep two hours ago.  
  
So, he drags himself out of bed and shuffles down the hall in his briefs and rumpled t-shirt, not altogether expecting to find Seunghyun at all-- but he does. For a while he watches him in silence, hanging back near the kitchen, out of sight. Seunghyun is in the lounge-room, perched above a yoga mat in a position Jiyong can't fully comprehend while half asleep. Before he can unravel the scene before him, it changes. In his briefs and nothing else, Seunghyun repositions himself. He stretches. He bows forward until he is folded in half. His chin almost touches his shins.  
  
Jiyong steps back and reaches for his own toes out of curiosity, only maintaining the position for a moment before springing back up, still hopelessly out of shape. Always flexible in the past, he is annoyed to find himself so changed after a year of inactivity. Seunghyun stays in his position for a good thirty seconds and Jiyong's body hurts for watching him. He feels a glimmer of jealousy for the ghost of fitness past.  
  
He had no idea Seunghyun did this stuff. He _has_ been looking good; he works out and he's got his little gym and the pecs and the taut stomach but yoga? Flexibility? _Seunghyun?_ He must have been doing it for a long time too otherwise this position would involve screaming. It's a little awing for so early in the morning. Jiyong wonders how this never came up before.  
  
His mind wanders and devolves at the sight of Seunghyun's body straining with effort. With the light coming through the big glass doors, light and shadow play off his toned muscles. Maybe it's only now that Jiyong grasps the extent of Seunghyun's work-outs. He wonders if all this is purely stress relief or if there isn't an element of army preparedness too.  
  
Seunghyun frees himself from his contortion and drops into plank position. His shoulder blades tighten and Jiyong wishes to God he had the decency not to do this kind of thing in his underwear. It's too early to fuck. It's too early to _think_ about fucking. There's too much going on. Instead, Jiyong knocks on the kitchen column as he enters the room to announce himself. He sits on the ground a few feet away from the mat. Seunghyun maintains his position but turns his head with a strained smile. His face is flushed.  
  
'Morning,' Jiyong says.  
  
'Morning'.  
  
'Do this often?'  
  
'Every day except sleepovers,' Seunghyun answers. 'I couldn't sleep. Sorry'.  
  
Jiyong stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles. He's aware of the picture he must paint in his undies and t-shirt but can't find it within himself to care. It's not like Seunghyun hasn't seen him in every conceivable state of ugly and undress. Anyway, Seunghyun has that expression on his face, _I'm happy to see you_. Never mind that they fell asleep together. Jiyong always gets that face--- as if they've been separated a long time and have finally come home.  
  
'I didn't know you were into this stuff'.  
  
Seunghyun huffs out a few laboured breaths, dropping onto his elbows while maintaining the straight line of his body. He answers very seriously, 'I'm finding myself,' before his face splits into a smile and he shakes his head. 'I gave it a shot in Japan. Someone recommended it and I had nothing to lose. I can't say it does much for my inner peace but it passes the time,' he says, 'and I think you'll agree my body looks _very_ nice'.  
  
Jiyong smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
'Is that why you're doing this in your undies?'  
  
'No, that's just for you'.  
  
Jiyong snorts and lies flat against the floor. He turns his head only enough to see Seunghyun's face. These brief moments together mean everything to him now. The difference a few smiles and jokes can make is revelatory. The way his parents used to speak about each other-- it's like that. The way his father used to joke about seeing his mother for the first time and hating her, with a twinkle in his eye despite all that. They seemed to have been together forever. Like there was never a moment in either of their lives that they weren't married. Jiyong thinks maybe, that's what Seunghyun is to him.  
  
'Are you really doing this for exercise? Isn't yoga about the mind?' he asks.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates before sinking down to the mat. He lies on his stomach and rests his chin on folded arms. They look at each other from their contrary positions on the floor. Seunghyun's skin has a faint glow from perspiration and Jiyong--- well he knows he's all chins from Seunghyun's vantage point.  
  
'I guess it helps sometimes'.  
  
For a while Seunghyun talks about the journey he made to reach his current routine. He talks about the woman he met in his building in Japan who was obsessed with _Kriya Yoga_. Her mother was Korean so they were able to talk occasionally, to his chagrin. She told him all sorts of things, about how everything is made of energy and how some yogi's could harness it and re-materialise matter at will. There was a famous story about a yogi who made a palace appear in the mountains for one night.  
  
'Is that what you want?' Jiyong asks, gesturing to the mat. 'To mould the universe? You want to change things?'  
  
'I don't know'.  
  
'If you could change something, would you? What would it be?'  
  
Seunghyun thinks deeply for a minute but comes up empty. He genuinely doesn't have an answer.  
  
'Maybe that's my problem,' he says. 'If I had three wishes, I wouldn't know how to use them'.  
  
Jiyong brushes this off as immaterial.  
  
'If you summoned a genie by accident, I would use your three wishes for you'.  
  
'So what would _you_ wish for?'  
  
Jiyong spends a good minute thinking about it. Sleep deprived and entrenched in this inescapable trap with Hyeong-bae, he finds it matters this-morning at twenty past eight. If he is flippant or says the wrong thing, maybe the universe will respond in kind. If he is sincere, maybe his positivity will effect change. It isn't the same as concocting a golden palace in the sky, but maybe there's something in it.  
  
'For us to be happy,' he says eventually. 'That's my first wish. Together and individually--'  
  
'Is that one wish or two?'  
  
'One,' Jiyong decides. 'I want us to live long lives. That's my second wish'.  
  
'And the third?'  
  
'For all this to end one day,' he gestures around them. 'The fame and fortune and expectation. To re-write history so Kwon Jiyong can be someone else for a while. Someone average and anonymous who nobody knows. I would like that for a while, if it were on my terms'.  
  
'Being average and anonymous comes with its own set of expectations,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'Maybe'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and draws himself back into plank pose. Jiyong watches the muscles in his arms in rapt fascination. While he catalogues each dip and curve, Seunghyun finishes his poignant tale about his discovery of yoga.  
  
'Anyway, I thought that magic side of things was a little too involved so I found a simpler way of doing things. One with less introspection and connecting with the universe and more toning my ass and taking some quiet time to decompress. Less pressure'.  
  
'So what kind of yoga is _this_?'  
  
'The T.O.P kind,' Seunghyun answers. 'I do the things I like and not the rest'.  
  
'Aptly named then'.  
  
Seunghyun smiles at this little gibe and lifts his head.  
  
'Thanks for using some of your wishes on me'.  
  
'You're welcome'.  
  
For the next few minutes they exist in comfortable silence. Seunghyun finishes up his routine which is less convoluted than his first pose of limbs bending the wrong way. Jiyong watches him, thinking or not-thinking about last night. He doesn't need to meditate on his options because there are only two. The first is bending to Hyeong-bae's will. The second is not.  
  
He'll go home and try to hash things out. He'll be honest as much as possible and lay himself bare and if his sincerity doesn't save him, he'll do whatever Hyeong-bae asks. If he can't extricate himself from this mess, he'll capitulate.  
  
Watching Seunghyun's visible strength makes Jiyong aware of his own weaknesses. Is that what it is to give in? Is it weak to concede defeat when there's no hope of victory? There has to be strength in surrender. Living under someone's thumb, doesn't that take strength?  
  
'I have another hypothetical for you,' he says after a time.  
  
Seunghyun's gaze is on the mat beneath him. His arms are trembling from fatigue. Jiyong can see his muscles straining to support his weight. He's tired. Asking this now feels a like a mirror of the larger situation. Dropping bombs on an unstable home.  
  
'If I fucked up and because of that you couldn't act any more or rap any more-- if your career was hurt-- would you hate me forever?'  
  
Seunghyun's brow furrows and he drops to his knees. He turns his head so they're making eye contact and he answers seriously.  
  
_'Have_ you fucked up?'  
  
Jiyong smiles to mask his meaning.  
  
'No. It's just a hypothetical like all the rest. A little dour maybe. They can't all be fun'.  
  
Seunghyun frowns, a little disbelieving, but he gets back into plank with his eyes on the mat below him once more. Jiyong can see the wheels in his mind spinning to explain this question in lieu of others. But it makes sense to think about this stuff after their doled out wishes. To want to be somebody else, those things are interrelated.  
  
'Would you hate me forever?' Jiyong pushes.  
  
'Not forever'.  
  
'But you would for a while?'  
  
'Probably. It would depend on the situation'.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard but maintains his smile. It's not the answer he expected-- he feared a blanket yes, not that Seunghyun would say that to his face, but his answer was sincere. Seunghyun believes in his own honesty and magnanimity. If Jiyong ruined his life, Seunghyun would try to forgive him.  
  
Does love really extend that far outside the realm of hypotheticals? Is Seunghyun capable of that kind of forgiveness? Jiyong doesn't want to find out. He has to fix things, somehow. He has to go home. He has to ask Hyeong-bae the cost of his indiscretions. Whatever it is, he'll pay it.  
  
Jiyong pulls himself away and nudges Seunghyun's bare shoulder on his way back to the bedroom.  
  
When he is showered and dressed and ready to leave thirty minutes later, Seunghyun is trying to fix his coffee machine with a fork. Jiyong kisses him on the shoulder and says his goodbyes.  
  
'Thanks for last night. I might not see you for a couple of days. I have some stuff to organise and get done. I'll call you'.  
  
Seunghyun answers easily, barely looking up-- as if he is already so accustomed to them being together, it's like the good old days for him. There is no longer any point saying goodbye because the separation is always brief.  
  
'Alright'.  
  


  
* * *  
  


 

For the first time in what feels like years, Jiyong doesn't agonise over every possible outcome when he pulls into his car space. He doesn't rehearse a speech or concoct answers to questions that haven't been asked. There is no reasonable way to prepare for what is about to happen, so he doesn't prepare.  
  
In the elevator his mind is blank. If anything, he's aware of how _hungry_ he is. He hasn't eaten since a meagre bread roll in the restaurant the night before. There was food but he was so wrapped up in Youngbae and Daesung's stories and then watching Seunghyun and then thinking about the future, he forgot to eat what was there. He picked at his food until it was cold. He regrets that now. Food is what he's thinking about when he puts the key in the lock and walks into the apartment.  
  
When the door closes behind him, everything feels different. Like he has been plunged into cold water unexpectedly. It was easy to forgo preparation on the way up but now that he's inside and shut in, he feels lost in a strange place. Out of his depth.  
  
For a while he just stands inside the door, trying to listen for Hyeong-bae in the apartment. Maybe he's gone out? It would be easier to face him if he could start this _whatever_ from a position of authority or strength. Reclined on the lounge as if he isn't scared out of his mind and completely at his mercy.  
  
Jiyong drops his keys on the table by the door and waits. Sure enough, the sound elicits movement from the bedroom. Hyeong-bae emerges and comes down the hall, or partially anyway. He stops a few metres off. He doesn't say anything right away. For a moment it feels like they've counted ten paces and are about to shoot.  
  
Hyeong-bae is clean shaven and dressed. There is a towel slung over his shoulder. He looks completely normal. He doesn't look enraged or bitter or sad. If last night never happened, Jiyong would heave a sigh of relief and think he was finally back to normal. That's the worst of it. Looking at him, it's easy to think nothing happened. Hyeong-bae is the same person he always was. Kind. Patient. Understanding. _  
_  
'Can we talk?' Jiyong asks.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods easily. He rakes his eyes over Jiyong's body from head to toe as if looking for something. Maybe he's trying to figure out what happened last night. Searching for confirmation that the last twelve hours have passed in the arms of his mistress.  
  
'I think that's a good idea,' He answers instead. 'I'm going to take a shower but when I get out we can talk about what I _found_ '.  
  
Jiyong pales.  
  
'Found?'  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles the way victors generally do. He nods in the affirmative.  
  
'What did you find?' Jiyong asks weakly.  
  
'Answers,' Hyeong-bae says flippantly. 'Proof'.  
  
He readjusts the towel over his shoulder for no other reason than to remind Jiyong of his intentions to shower _before_ having this conversation. He quickly turns and disappears back into the bedroom without another word. Jiyong pales further. Hyeong-bae wants him to stew in this information and work himself up into a frenzy for ten minutes until everything has turned sufficiently in his favour. Until he is panicked and vulnerable and liable to make mistakes when the bombs go off.  
  
_Answers?_ _  
  
_Proof?__  
  
Until the sound of water running starts in the ensuite, Jiyong's mind is blank. It isn't until the water changes rhythm, becomes choppy and uneven, the way it sounds hitting head and shoulders, that Jiyong realises what Hyeong-bae must mean.  
  
The box.  
  
The shoebox in his closet filled with all his mementos from his varied lives with Seunghyun. There is nothing else it can be. The second phone is in his car and divested of all their messages to each other. It can't be that and what else is there? Hyeong-bae must have found the shoebox. That old ratty box with his charms and gifts from friends, the scraps of paper and receipts with lyrics scrawled lengthwise. The _phone._ Seunghyun's phone. His phone and all the other accumulated pieces that reminded Jiyong of him. The tag from one of Seunghyun's shirts, a birthday card, a drawing, a love note. The Wu Tang cassette. Seunghyun's unopened suicide note.  
  
Evidence. Evidence of his cheating and the identity of who with. Proof of Seunghyun's culpability. Weapons that Hyeong-bae can add to his arsenal.  
  
Jiyong makes a snap decision. He has to be sure. He has to _know_ the box is gone, that its contents have been exposed. He needs to know what is about to happen so he can think up ways to explain everything away. When Hyeong-bae gets out of the shower, he needs to have plausible excuses at the ready.  
  
Listening to the choppy sound of the shower, Jiyong enters their bedroom as quietly as he can with the ensuite door ajar. He slips into the closet and sinks to his knees, digging out that old shoebox from beneath two dozen others. _It makes no sense! How could he have found it? How could he have known where to look?_  
  
He works as quickly and quietly as he can, stacking boxes to one side until his hands falls upon the familiar worn edges. He pulls the box into his lap. Pulling the lid off in apprehension, he finds everything in its place. Seunghyun's thick envelope is still on top. Beneath it, his phone and other trinkets lay undisturbed.  
  
He touches the lid again and his fingers come away dirty. The thinning, flattened lid is covered in dust. It hasn't been touched in weeks. It was exactly where he left it and nothing looks moved. Hyeong-bae didn't find it. But if _this_ isn't what he found---  
  
Hyeong-bae grabs him suddenly from behind and Jiyong jerks in surprise. It all happens too quickly. A heavy arm folds around him. Hyeong-bae tries to take the bo _x_ _right out of his lap._ Jiyong is so dazed he forgets to hold onto it. It's in the air above him before he realises what’s happening.  
  
He scrambles to get it back. He rises up off the floor and wraps his hands around it, pulling down with the full weight of his body until Hyeong-bae loses his hold on it. Jiyong lands on his knees with the box in his lap. He curls around it instinctively, folding over it until the edges dig into him.  
  
Hyeong-bae follows them down. His movements are rough and fast and his attempts determined. He grabs and pushes and pulls for it. Jiyong only keeps the box safe by curling around it. He uses his body as a shield. He doesn't have time to wonder how Hyeong-bae can _be_ here fully dressed when he heard him in the shower only _seconds ago---_ he doesn't have time to wonder what the fuck is going on. His reaction is instinctive.  
  
The box is the difference between life and death. If the wrong person got their hands on it, if _Hyeong-bae_ got his hands on it, information about Seunghyun would become public. Bad enough to ruin his life by association to _G-Dragon: pervert filmed discussing gay sex!_ But to have his suicide attempt come out? To have their _relationship_ come out? It would destroy him.  
  
Jiyong would sooner die than let go of this box. Hyeong-bae didn't find it, that means he doesn't know about Seunghyun. Jiyong can still keep him safe, _relatively_. He does what he can. Before anything else, he knows to hold on.  
  
Hyeong-bae gets his hands on the walls of the box and tries to wrench it away but Jiyong's grip is so tight, he is pulled along the carpet. He feels the cardboard quickly buckle and cave beneath their combined weight. He tries to hold it tighter against his stomach. Hyeong-bae yanks on it again and Jiyong is dragged across the floor.  
  
'Give it to me,' Hyeong-bae shouts angrily. ' _Give it to me'._  
  
_'No,'_ Jiyong answers, 'are you _crazy?'_  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't answer. He changes tack. He loosens his hold on the box in favour of Jiyong's accessible hand. He tries to pry his fingers off like a child would another child, except he is rough. He bends one of Jiyong's fingers so far back that his hand releases instantly. It springs open in pain. Hyeong-bae makes another grab for the box and Jiyong only just retains it. He rolls sideways so Hyeong-bae's hands are knocked free of him.  
  
He scrambles to his feet but doesn't get far. He is pulled violently back by the hem of his t-shirt until a leg goes out from under him. Jiyong hits the floor hard on one knee and the box tumbles out of his hands. The lid comes off and the envelope slips out. _Seunghyun's suicide note._  
  
He sees Hyeong-bae lunge for it but he gets there first. He dives for it. His stomach lands squarely on the open box in his pursuit of the letter but he _gets_ it. The cardboard edges dig painfully into his middle but he can't get up. He doesn't get the chance. Hyeong-bae sits over him with a knee on either side to trap him. He reaches for the letter in Jiyong's hand and pulls on his fingers. He yanks on the envelope but Jiyong refuses to let go. His arm is jerked backwards at a bad angle.  
  
' _Fuck! Let go!'_  
  
'I _need_ this,' Hyeong-bae answers passionately. 'I _need_ this. I need this box. I need whatever is in this fucking letter. Let go'.  
  
_'Why?'_  
  
'Because I want the truth,' Hyeong-bae growls. He employs his free hand so both are working to pry Jiyong's fingers off at once. Seunghyun's letter is crushed in his fist. If Hyeong-bae doesn't stop pulling, his fingers will break. Jiyong's eyes water from the hurt.  
  
'What the fuck are you talking about?'  
  
'The truth,' Hyeong-bae repeats, digging a knee into his lower back. He puts weight behind it and Jiyong grimaces in fresh pain. His eyes water. The placement sends daggers up his spine. Hyeong-bae continues. 'I want the truth. I want you to _say_ it but you won't so I want to see whatever is in that box. It's the proof. Love letters? Pictures?'  
  
With his myriad pains, Jiyong finds it hard to comprehend what Hyeong-bae is saying. Why is he doing this after last night? What does he want if he knows everything already?  
  
'What do you want me to say?' Jiyong shouts. 'Say _what?'_  
  
'What you've _done'._ Hyeong-bae tugs sharply back on Jiyong's fingers. The pain is so precise and severe, Jiyong thinks they might have broken. The envelope loosens in his grip and he can feel it slipping away from him.  
  
'Okay,' he shouts. 'I cheated! Is that what you want me to say? I cheated on you? _I fucking cheated!'_  
  
In an instant, the pressure on his back subsides and his fingers are released. They spring back into place but he can barely feel them. He clutches the envelope anew. His fingers aren't broken, just impossibly sore and tight.  
  
Hyeong-bae gets off him and walks a little way away. He seems to stop by the ensuite--- the furthest away he can get without leaving the room. It's now that Jiyong hears the shower still running. None of it makes any sense. He can't decompress from the shock of what just happened. All he knows is that the box is beneath him and the envelope still safe in his hand.  
  
_I kept them._  
  
He gingerly sits up, clutching his stomach. Even through his shirt he can feel the indent the corner of the box left in his skin. His whole gut feels bruised. He puts the envelope back and the lid on the mangled box. He pulls it into his chest and waits for Hyeong-bae to say something.  
  
He looks dazed. Jiyong watches him in total confusion--- until parts seem suddenly obvious. He didn't know about the cheating. He suspected but he didn't know _._ Still. There was no certainty. Hearing it aloud has made the difference.  
  
'I thought you _knew’._  
  
'No,' Hyeong-bae looks to the ground. 'I didn't have proof. I knew last night that it was true. The way you reacted to those clips. If you hadn't done anything wrong you would have questioned me or fought back but instead you just---'  
  
He gestures vacantly and leaves the room without finishing.  
  
_I gave up because I felt guilty,_ Jiyong thinks foolishly, _because I_ was _guilty._  
  
What was last night if it wasn't what he thought? If Hyeong-bae didn't have the proof he seemed to have? Was it all some warped set-up he concocted?  
  
Jiyong drags himself off the ground, wincing at the ache in his lower back and stomach. He doesn't dwell on what just happened. He brushes it off. He compartmentalises. He has to. That was a fight. Things happen in fights. Like brothers fighting over a toy. Ordinary. He waits for his heart to stop pounding. It takes a long time.  
  
When his adrenaline has waned, he follows Hyeong-bae out. He finds him seated at one end of the table, staring at a point in space. Jiyong walks a wide circle around him and stops at the opposite end. With the box still pressed to his body, he stands behind the farthest chair.  
  
'I had to know,' Hyeong-bae says.  
  
When he looks up, he intuits the little pains he has caused, the stiffness of Jiyong's fingers, the ache in his back. He looks remorseful for a moment and then he doesn't.  
  
'That was your fault,' he says firmly, gesturing behind them to the bedroom. 'That was _your fault'._  
  
Jiyong flushes and looks at the table. Maybe it was. This is all a consequence of his choices. That makes everything his fault. Everything that came after that first decision months ago to cheat. This includes bent back fingers. He doesn't say anything to defend himself.  
  
He tries to collect his thoughts instead. He tries to recall what Hyeong-bae said yesterday, every look and physical gesture and the vibe in the room. It was all so clear last night. Nothing explicitly said but so heavily implied there was no room for misunderstanding.  
  
'If you didn't know,' Jiyong begins, 'why the videos? Why did you threaten me? _'_  
  
'I took a lot of videos,' Hyeong-bae answers simply, 'not just incriminating ones. They're just the ones I chose to show you'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'You think I've been plotting this entire time? Taking videos so I could extort you one day? It would be easier to think that. It would absolve you of guilt to think I was a bastard this whole time, that it was all a con and you're just a victim'.  
  
Jiyong swallows at the calm malice in his voice.  
  
'No. I liked you,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I liked you and then I loved you and I took some videos along the way,' he says, 'like anybody would. But I wanted to be vindicated,' he gestures between them, 'before you broke up with me and went to live your happy little life with your mistress, never admitting what you'd done. I knew you were about to leave but I wanted proof so I baited you. It was easy last night and it was easy just now in the bedroom'.  
  
It was a trick. Hyeong-bae stood in the bathroom, simulating the sounds of a shower so Jiyong would what? Dig up every bit of evidence of wrongdoing to find out _how_ he was discovered? Laying himself bare in the process. He brought out the evidence Hyeong-bae had been unable to find.  
  
_Idiot._  
  
'So last night was---'  
  
'A test?' Hyeong-bae suggests. 'No matter what I said to you, you wouldn't ever admit it. I knew there had to be more at stake for you to tell the truth. You've been looking guilty lately so I played on it. I insinuated and you filled in the blanks the way you expected them to be filled. I acted like I had proof and you assumed I did. You didn't even _try_ to pretend you didn't understand. You thought I caught you and you gave up'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's hand curls into a fist on the table.  
  
'When I told you to go see your mistress for the last time? You should have seen the look on your face,' He says. ‘It was obvious then. You confirmed it, finally. I had everything but the words out of your mouth. I told you to go fuck your girlfriend and off you went'.  
  
Jiyong winces and pulls out his chair, sliding gingerly onto the seat. He puts the shoebox in his lap and his hands on the table.  
  
'What's in the box?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
'Trinkets,' Jiyong answers quietly. 'Old stuff. It's not what you think'.  
  
'How long?' he asks.  
  
Jiyong doesn't need to ask what he means.  
  
'A few months'.  
  
Hyeong-bae winces.  
  
Jiyong wonders how much information he should divulge, what secrets he should tell to placate him. If last night was a test were the threats fabricated too? Or are they unchanged in light of his confession? Jiyong's aches and pains warn him to assume the latter. Does Hyeong-bae want honesty for once or does he need lies to make the worst of the hurt go away?  
  
'Do you just fuck her or do you love her?'  
  
Jiyong is reluctant to speak.  
  
_'Answer me'._  
  
'I love her'.  
  
On Hyeong-bae's face is everything Jiyong wanted to spare him from but didn't; heartbreak, devastation, amazement that he could fall victim to this a second time.  
  
Now that he has to explain himself as best he can without giving Seunghyun away, Jiyong can't do it. The words he gave in Hyeong-bae's defence the day he told Seunghyun everything don't come a second time. Either do the words he told himself over and over to suspend their break up.  
  
'And me?' Hyeong-bae asks.  
  
Jiyong's words stick in his throat. His feelings changed so drastically over time. But there _was_ love. Even if it was misguided. He felt it. Hyeong-bae changed everything. Of course he loved him. He tells him as much. He tells him what he wants to hear.  
  
'I loved you. You know I did'.  
  
'So what _happened?'_  
  
'It was complicated'.  
  
'I bet. Who is she?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs, stalling for time. He doesn't know how to answer. It would be easy to confess it was the girl who left him, who disappeared overseas without another word. Or maybe that would make things worse. He can hear Hyeong-bae inside his head. _Y _ou have done this to me over a woman who left you once before? Who broke you? I picked up the pieces of your life so you could go__ back _to her?_  
  
Besides, the connection to Seunghyun is too big a risk. It's too easy to connect the dots with the right pieces of information. What happens if Hyeong-bae hears in passing one day that Seunghyun spent a year in Japan and the dates line up? Jiyong wants to draw the truth as far from Hyeong-bae as it's possible to take it. But how far is that? A lie that's short and curt? _We had mutual friends. She came into work once and we hit it off. I never meant for things to go so far. It just happened._  
  
Jiyong considers this and how little consolation it would be.  
  
It would be easier to hear the truth. That Seunghyun--- _the other woman,_ is the love of his life. That _she_ is the one thing in this world he will always want. That he would fuck up his life a thousand times over for the same chance to have her _. She is the only person on this earth I could have done this for. If she never came back I would have loved you indefinitely._ _Maybe._  
  
'It wasn't—-'  
  
Jiyong starts and stops. He finds he can't say any of the myriad things available to him. He can't lie and say this woman is the love of his life. He can't make Hyeong-bae feel less used by explaining that this love pre-dates him. He can't go the opposite route and say he met her by chance and things simply got away from him. He can't say anything.  
  
'I'm _sorry'._  
  
Hyeong-bae is surprised when the defensive speech goes unsaid. He expected one. He expected more lies. More rhetoric of _me, me, me---_ excuses and explanations. Instead, Jiyong says nothing. Just _sorry._ From across the table, Hyeong-bae scrutinises him. He stares the way people mentally undress others until Jiyong feels exposed but he doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. He maintains eye contact whenever Hyeong-bae gives his. He tries to be stoic in his defeat.  
  
Silence grows between them. Staring at each other from opposite ends of the table, Jiyong shifts uncomfortably. It feels like Hyeong-bae is inside his head, sifting through his memories for the highlight reel of his indiscretions. His gaze is invasive. After a while Hyeong-bae breaks the spell. He draws himself together and speaks loudly across the table.  
  
'You've been cheating for _months,'_ he says. 'Months!'  
  
He says it a few more times, damning him; Months. _Months._ He slams his hand down on the table, _'_ fucking _months,'_ he shouts _._ 'How often do you fuck her?' He asks. 'How often do you see her? When I'm at work, are you ever here? All those times you 'go to the studio'-- are you fucking _her_ in a nice hotel?'  
  
'It's not like that'.  
  
'So what _is_ it like?'  
  
Jiyong purses his lips.  
  
Hyeong-bae's eyes grow large at the possibility he might not answer, that he might not defend himself or give the answers he is supposed to. If he doesn't speak, Hyeong-bae's vindication will be lost and his triumph one-sided. What is it to be proven _right_ if the people who were wrong don't play their part?  
  
'Is she the only one?' Hyeong-bae persists, 'Or were there others? Did you grow tired of dick? You wanted to go back to--'  
  
_'No'._  
  
'No,' Hyeong-bae agrees, pleased to get an answer. 'No. Does your girlfriend know you like getting fucked by men?'  
  
'She knows, _'_ Jiyong answers.  
  
'For how long?'  
  
'Always'.  
  
'Does she know about me? Did you tell her you were already dating before you started fucking her?'  
  
Jiyong's face flushes. It's all the answer necessary. Hyeong-bae's fist tightens on the table in answer. His knuckles lose their colour and whiten. Jiyong searches desperately for all the answers he was prepared to give, all the simpering pleading apologies he was ready to make before he got here. They slip through his fingers before he knows what to say.  
  
'She knew?' Hyeong-bae asks carefully. 'You two have been fucking each other for months and the whole time she _knew_ about me?'  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer but he doesn't have to. When Hyeong-bae next speaks his voice is rough as sand.  
  
'I see'.  
  
He goes quiet then, his gaze flat and accusative. All the anger and frustration and emotion ekes out of him until he looks mechanical. Unpredictable. Cold. It sets Jiyong on edge. The room is stifling. He unconsciously fans himself with his hand. Things are getting away from him. It hasn't been five minutes but it feels like a lifetime. He has missed every opportunity to lessen the severity of this, to placate Hyeong-bae's anger.  
  
Maybe he unconsciously wants this to go as badly as possible.  
  
'Something wrong?'  
  
'I need a cigarette,' Jiyong answers weakly. When was the last time he had one? Yesterday? He looks back at the kitchen. His cigarettes are on the counter where he left them the night before. He feels Hyeong-bae watching him and turns back to face him.  
  
He blanches. Where seconds ago Hyeong-bae was impassive, he is now trembling from anger. He leans forward a few inches with both palms flat on the table. He speaks in a voice Jiyong has never heard before.  
  
'If you get out of that chair, I will put you back in it'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes widen in cold surprise and he shrinks in his seat. He slumps down as if the table can afford him protection. He knows, somehow, that isn't an idle threat. Hyeong-bae looks like somebody else all of a sudden. All bets are off.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'You don't get to do this,' Hyeong-bae says in a low tone. 'You don't get to fuck up my life and sit there quietly, avoiding the consequences. You don't get to do that. When I ask you questions, you _answer_ them'.  
  
Jiyong moves his hands into his lap so Hyeong-bae won't see them shaking and a rankling fear begins to form in his gut.  
  
If he were a different person or simply less guilty, he would stick his chin out and say, _'or what?'_ but he isn't another person. He is who he is, with trembling fingers in his lap and a new awareness that this can go more wrong than he imagined. He should have prepared. He should have done something. Thinking he could play it by ear was a mistake.  
  
'Okay,' he answers.  
  
Hyeong-bae leans back in his chair, satisfied. He folds his arms across his chest and asks his first question.  
  
'Why did you _do_ it?'  
  
Jiyong swallows hard and stares at a point in the middle of the table before Hyeong-bae snaps his fingers and forces him to make eye contact. Even in the silence, he is aggressive. Jiyong is asked to speak louder twice before he can get the words out. He doesn't know what to say. He has no plans. He just talks and hopes for the best.  
  
'I've known her for half my life,' Jiyong says. 'I've always wanted her but I couldn't have her. Not the way I wanted. She wasn’t available to me. I loved her anyway. Always'.  
  
Hyeong-bae seems unmoved by this beginning but Jiyong has nothing else he can say.  
  
'A few months ago, an opportunity presented itself and I couldn't resist. Suddenly she was where I could get to her. I couldn't help it,' Jiyong confesses. 'When I knew she wanted me too? I took my chance. I had to'.  
  
He struggles with these half-truths, embarrassed for every word that comes out of him. Every unplanned, stupid, hopeless fucking word. This excuse is meaningless. Weak. It fixes nothing. Explains nothing.  
  
'I loved you,' Jiyong continues hopelessly. He speaks across the table. 'I _loved_ you. You’ve been so important to me. You were everything I had for a while. We’ve had a good time together and I loved our life. It was simple and nice and easy and I didn't want that to end. That's why I cheated, that's why I kept things going even after I knew I could have _her-_ \-- because with her, it was complicated and it was hard and uncertain and I didn't know what my life would be if I chose her. I thought she was something I could get out of my system. If I just had her one time, I would realise it was all a fantasy. That it was just the allure of wanting something I couldn't have. After that it would stop. I would stop thinking about her all the time. I would stop _wanting_ her'.  
  
Hyeong-bae's chest swells, a deep exhalation like he's about to unleash a barrage of words, the kind that can't be taken back, so Jiyong cuts him off pre-emptively.  
  
'I _tried_ to break it off with her. I ended it a dozen times. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to cheat at all. I said _enough_ over and over but I kept making the same choices. Things just got away from me. I didn't know what I wanted. I loved you but I loved her too and I didn't know what to do. I should have ended things but I was confused. I thought if I had some time to figure things out---'  
  
Hyeong-bae disrupts him with a barking laugh and curses bitterly, _'Fuck you'._  
  
Jiyong falls silent.  
  
'Are you so special that the rules don't apply to you? You're allowed to humiliate me and use me and expect things from me while you decide whether or not I'm good enough for you? You don't know if you want me anymore but you'll toy with me in the meantime? _'_ Hyeong-bae finishes in a broken voice, 'I _loved_ you!'  
  
These words hit Jiyong like a physical blow. It isn't until now that he understands what he's done. He knew all along, of course, but it's different to see the direct consequences. The tears in Hyeong-bae's eyes that he isn't allowing to fall. He bites them back and Jiyong sees it all. The part of him that still loves Hyeong-bae for all the good times and happy memories recoils at the endless ways he has betrayed him.  
  
_I loved you._  
  
Hyeong-bae runs a hand through his hair, dazed but bristling with anger. He is almost shaking from the intensity of his feelings. He has kept himself in check more than Jiyong expected. Maybe. Hyeong-bae taps on the table and points a solitary accusing finger at him.  
  
'Were you always like this? Was I swept up in the _idea_ of you?' he asks bitterly. ' _G-Dragon, national treasure!_ Did I simply overlook what a selfish prick you are?'  
  
Jiyong's jaw clenches. Even agreeing with the anger and hurt, he falters at this.  
  
Maybe he wasn't always there emotionally but he wasn't the worst person in the world. They had good times together and he loved him for a while and Christ--- he paid off his debts and the rent on his apartment and he gave him a debit card with _thousands_ on it so he could have the illusion of independence while he got back on his feet. Or is thinking those things are what count the problem?  
  
It wasn't all money. He took care of Hyeong-bae while he was sick. He held him at night. He listened to his problems and his plans. Maybe not all the time but enough. He loved him and supported him and he overlooked the little ways that Hyeong-bae hurt him--- all because he loved him and wanted him to be happy.  
  
'Did you ever feel guilty?' Hyeong-bae asks derisively. 'Did you think about me at all?'  
  
'Of course,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'I don't believe you'.  
  
Jiyong's own hand curls into a fist. Hyeong-bae has no idea what he felt or how often, or how bad and painful and impossible getting out of bed sometimes felt because the guilt took pieces of him away until he wasn't sure there was anything left. It's not an excuse but it's _something_. He wasn't completely heartless and unfeeling.  
  
'None of this was _fun,'_ Jiyong answers _._ 'I wanted to break things off the right way so I wouldn't hurt you. I wanted you to know how much I _loved_ you, how important you were to me. The thought of breaking up with you or never seeing you again paralysed me. We've spent every day together for over a year. You think that time together didn't mean anything to me? You think it was easy to give it up? _Just break it off. Simple._ Well I couldn't. Nothing was simple. Everything was hard. Every option hurt. If this girl hadn't come back into my life, I would have stayed with you indefinitely. I would have wanted to. Yes, I felt guilty. I felt guilty every day. I feel guilty now. I'll feel guilty for a long time because I loved you and I've _hurt_ you and I feel bad about that'.  
  
'Well as long as you _feel_ bad,' Hyeong-bae snaps.  
  
'I made a mistake,' Jiyong answers heatedly. 'I'm sorry. I was confused and I fucked up but I never wanted to hurt you’.  
  
Hyeong-bae lashes out. He swings a hand across the table and knocks a ceramic dish onto the floor. It shatters into a dozen pieces. Jiyong looks at the pieces on the ground, dazed. That was his _mothers._ He brought it from home when he first moved into the apartment to remind him of his family. He held onto it for almost ten years. All the little bits and pieces he kept inside it lie amongst the broken shards. Old keys. Rings. Spare batteries. Junk mostly.  
  
'That was my mothers,' Jiyong says quietly.  
  
'She's not _dead,'_ Hyeong-bae answers, unmoved.  
  
Jiyong takes a deep breath and stands up. With the shoebox under his arm he moves to the kitchen counter and takes a cigarette with shaking fingers. With his back to Hyeong-bae he is keenly aware of his earlier threat.  
  
In short time, he hears a chair move and his stomach drops in anticipation. He tries to light his cigarette but his hand is shaking and he can't spark the lighter. Hyeong-bae takes it out of his hands and Jiyong flinches, startled. Hyeong-bae gets a flame immediately and holds the lighter out for him, one hand cupped around the flame.  
  
Jiyong lights his cigarette.  
  
'You know, I thought this would be different,' Hyeong-bae says quietly. 'I thought you would have some big excuse. Some rationalisation of everything you did and why but you don't. You have no explanation. You have nothing. All you have is this. ' _You caught me. Oops!'_  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes knowing there's nothing he can say--- or there are a dozen things but none that he can draw up in time. None that would sound convincing after the last fifteen minutes of failure. He has fucked this up completely. Maybe there was never any chance of fixing this or saying the right things but he feels this failure acutely. Like he has stuffed a bunch of pills in his mouth or lit coal briquettes in his car or jumped willingly off a bridge.  
  
'I thought,' Hyeong-bae says quietly near his ear, 'that you would be more _sorry_. I thought you would tell me what a big mistake you made, that you wanted my forgiveness. That you would do anything to make it up to me because you love me and we have a good life together. Once you were caught, I thought you would say those things. I think that's what I wanted. Love is blind'.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves back to his seat and gestures at the one Jiyong recently occupied.  
  
'Sit down'.  
  
Jiyong does what he asks.  
  
He feels hollow and weightless, like he might blow away in a breeze. Jiyong takes a drag of his cigarette and stares at the tabletop. All of his possible nightmare futures invade his mind until he wishes one of them would _happen_ already. He is already at the limit of what he can endure. How can he live like this? How did he think it was an option?  
  
'Don't use those videos against me, please'.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks shocked for a moment.  
  
'Is that all you care about?' he asks. 'The fucking videos? Even now, it's all about you and your feelings and your life? Fuck you'.  
  
Jiyong takes another drag and leans back in his chair. He knows there is no way out now. Any chance he had of fixing this, he fumbled away. No apology can make this right. No words can smooth this over.  
  
'What will you do with them?'  
  
'The videos? I don't know yet,' Hyeong-bae answers honestly. 'All I know is that I want you to suffer. How much, I haven't decided yet'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes close for a moment upon hearing this, a brief shutting down. It's one thing to hear vague speculative threats, another to hear it framed more clearly. The feeling, emotional part of him shuts down. He smokes the rest of his cigarette in eerie calm. When he finishes, he stubs it out against the table and looks Hyeong-bae in the eye.  
  
'You know I'm enlisting in a month'.  
  
'I do'.  
  
'So stay,' Jiyong answers practically, 'when I'm gone. Live here. You can use this apartment and my cars and whatever else you want for the two years I'll be away. That is plenty of time for you to figure out your next move'.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs quietly.  
  
'You'll loan me the apartment? That's your reparation to me? That's your bargaining chip? Is that all your career and reputation is worth? I could ask for my own apartment and you would have to foot the bill. I could ask for anything and you would have to do it. Isn't that right?'  
  
Jiyong frowns. Suddenly, the air in the room changes. He feels it. Hyeong-bae's hurt and understandable bitterness give way to something else. Something clinical and hard and cruel. His face changes. His voice changes. The hairs on Jiyong's arms stand on end.  
  
'My own apartment. My own car. A big number on a cheque,' Hyeong-bae muses. 'Shares in your company maybe. What would you be willing to do _exactly_ to make this go away?'  
  
'Anything'.  
  
Hyeong-bae makes a deep sound of approval and stands up. He slowly makes his way around the table to stand behind Jiyong's chair. Jiyong bristles at their close proximity.  
  
'If you can buy your freedom, what will you do with it?' Hyeong-bae asks, bending to speak into his ear. 'Will you shack up with your mistress? The woman who fucked you all those months knowing you were taken? She must have had a good laugh thinking about what a stupid asshole I am. Would you live together? Is that what you would do?'  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes in answer. Somehow, it makes this easier.  
  
'Well,' Hyeong-bae says. 'That certainly makes me less likely to do what you want, doesn't it?' He tucks Jiyong's hair behind his ear. 'Then again,' he says. 'You said you would do _anything?'_  
  
Jiyong tenses, his eyes remaining closed. He feels Hyeong-bae trace a line across his collarbone with heated fingers. He struggles to contain the tremor that rolls through him at the unexpected touch. He doesn't move. Warm breath moves from the side of his temple to the shell of his ear. Hyeong-bae's lips briefly kiss him there.  
  
'If I told you to suck my dick, would you do it? If saying no meant I posted one of those videos. What would you do?'  
  
Jiyong's stomach turns at the words. Hyeong-bae can't be serious. He isn't serious. Not after what's happened, he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't ask for it. This is a test.  
  
Jiyong manages not to flinch a second time. Not when Hyeong-bae's fingers slide down under the neck of his shirt. Not when they move further, tracing a line down his bare chest and stomach. Jiyong opens his eyes. He watches more than feels Hyeong-bae's hand emerge from the bottom of his shirt, his bulky shoulder and upper arm stretching out the fabric. The pulled-taut neck cuts into his nape.  
  
Jiyong watches, unaffected, as if this has already happened. He watches Hyeong-bae undo the top button of his jeans from inside his own shirt. He doesn't flinch or recoil or do anything. If he shows any emotion, Hyeong-bae will see it. He will feel it. Smell it. Sense it. Jiyong tries to keep his disgust and panic tamped down.  
  
It's harder when the second button is undone. This one is tricky. Hyeong-bae has to use both hands to get it. Jiyong holds his breath while Hyeong-bae's second arm folds around him from behind.  
  
'If I wanted to fuck you right here, what would you say?' Hyeong-bae whispers, undoing the final button. 'Would you do it to save yourself?'  
  
Maybe this _isn't_ a test. Maybe he would really ask him this. Maybe he would really punish him this way. After everything, isn't this the worst revenge? He must know that. For all his best efforts, a tear rolls down Jiyong's cheek though he doesn't make a sound. He hopes Hyeong-bae doesn't see it. He has no way of wiping it away without drawing attention to it.  
  
'Would you?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Answer me'.  
  
His hand snakes its way back up and out the neck of Jiyong's shirt. It hangs loose and stretched.  
  
Jiyong doesn't answer.  
  
He means to but the words don't come out. If he speaks, his voice will betray him so he stays silent. He prays for this to end, for Hyeong-bae to resume his place at the other end of the table, but he doesn't.  
  
Jiyong is pushed forward suddenly by the force of Hyeong-bae's hand on the back of his neck. Hyeong-bae’s fingers dig into his skin so harshly, Jiyong gasps from the sudden pain. It is excruciating. It is worse than his bent back fingers and the knee in his back.  
  
_'Answer me!'_  
  
'Yes,' Jiyong says quickly. His hands fold over Hyeong-bae's, trying to peel away his fingers. Hyeong-bae just tightens his grip until Jiyong's body starts tensing from the pain, he finds himself trying to twist away from it. He spins in his seat until his legs are at the side and he's no longer facing the table. The box falls from his lap.  
  
Hyeong-bae jostles him. For a moment, the violence of it makes everything else disappear.  
  
'Yes what? Say it'.  
  
'I'd let you _fuck_ me!' Jiyong answers, another tear rolling down his cheek. He scratches at Hyeong-bae's wrists to release him. 'I'd suck your dick! I'd do whatever you asked me. I'll do whatever you _want,_ _please _let me go'.__  
  
Hyeong-bae shoves him forward roughly and Jiyong spills onto the floor, barely avoiding the shoebox. The lid stays on. He is grateful for that at least. His hands cover his neck as if they can undo the pain retroactively. His neck throbs.  
  
Behind him, Hyeong-bae scoffs.  
  
'I thought so. You fail every test'.  
  
Like this, he backs off. Jiyong suddenly has space to try and collect himself. It takes longer than he likes. His hands shake like he's bitterly cold and his heart labours in his chest. When he can move again, he does up the buttons of his jeans and stands up on shaking legs. He backs up against the wall and stays there. For the first time he lets the possibility come to him that he is afraid.  
  
Hyeong-bae is standing a few metres away with his arms folded. He looks grim.  
  
'Don't worry,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I don't want you anymore. I wouldn't waste this opportunity' he says, tapping the cell phone in his pocket, 'on something so _unsatisfying_ '. He looks Jiyong up and down with marked disgust. 'I hope this girl you're in love with knows what you are; how cowing and desperate and pathetic you are. You would justify anything to get what you want'.  
  
'And what are you?' Jiyong asks bitterly. 'You think this is normal? That you're still a victim?'  
  
'I think,' Hyeong-bae answers, stepping forward, 'what I've done today is the least of what you deserve. You used me and humiliated me and laughed at me for _months_ and you don't feel bad about it. You're only sad you got caught. I'm going to make sure you get what's coming to you'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't try to wipe away the next tear that rolls down his cheek.  
  
'And what is that?'  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles wanly.  
  
'The worst thing I can think of,' he says. 'Don't get me wrong, it's obvious that _touching_ you would be the worst punishment, but I'm not a rapist,' he says. 'So the next best thing is nothing'.  
  
'What?'  
  
'I'm not going to do _anything,_ ' Hyeong-bae says seriously. 'You offered to let me stay here, so I will,' he says, 'and so will you. You're going to stay here with me. I want you to wonder and wait and live in torture. I want you to see my face every single day and wonder if I'll do it. I want to see all the little ways you try to wriggle free. I want you to live with these videos hanging over your head. I want to draw this out until you snap'.  
  
'And then what?'  
  
'Then I'll see how I feel. I wonder if you can last the month'.  
  
Jiyong flushes with anger.  
  
'Are you a psychopath? People cheat all the time. No-one does _this._ What's the matter with you? Ask for money like anyone else would'.  
  
'I don't _want_ money,' Hyeong-bae snaps. 'I _loved_ you. I fucking loved you. I did everything for you. Looking at you now, I _still_ love you and I hate that and I hate you for it. I want you to feel how I feel and I have the means. You would do the same'.  
  
'No, I _wouldn't’._  
  
'Maybe not'.  
  
'And what happens If I kick your ass out of here?' Jiyong asks boldly. 'If I tell you to go fuck yourself. I'm not playing this game. If I tell you to release the videos?’  
  
'Then I will,' Hyeong-bae answers simply. 'Bravery won't save you. I won't be impressed by your pride or resolve. Frankly, it's not that believable given you would spread your legs to save yourself. I don't think you're going to bravely take a bullet'.  
  
Jiyong realises with resignation that he's right.  
  
'You can't buy your way out of this problem,' Hyeong-bae continues. 'You've been living in a gilded world, up high on a pedestal. I don't think you know what it's like to face real consequences, to be culpable for your actions. I'm doing you a favour'.  
  
Jiyong laughs bitterly. He wipes his face and shrugs.  
  
'Fine. What are the terms? Am I a prisoner here? Am I allowed to leave the house? Can I go to work? Tell me your big plan'.  
  
Hyeong-bae obliges, obviously making up the terms on the spot but when he's finished, he is clearly satisfied with his quick answers.  
  
'The master bedroom is mine. You sleep in the spare room. You can go wherever you like, whenever you like as long as you always come home at night. Also, I meant what I said. Your mistress is off limits. If you see her, I'll _know'._  
  
The hairs on Jiyong's arms stand on end at the last. Something about the way he says it makes Jiyong think he _will_ know.  
  
'I will know,' Hyeong-bae continues, 'and I will destroy every last bit of happiness remaining in your life'.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard.  
  
'I _get_ it'.  
  
After this, there is silence between them until Jiyong can't stand it any longer. He needs to leave. Again. There is nothing left he can do here. If he has total freedom throughout the day, he doesn't have to stay here. Hyeong-bae should be at work but he _isn't_ so Jiyong has no choice. He has to get away from him. He has to get away from this ludicrous fucking nightmare. He has to _think._  
  
'I'm going out then,' he says, moving to the kitchen counter. He slides his cigarettes into his pocket. 'If we're finished here?'  
  
Hyeong-bae nods.  
  
'As long as you remem---'  
  
'Fuck _you,'_ Jiyong snaps. 'I remember. You said it one fucking minute ago. I will be back at night and I won't see my _mistress_. I understand the fucking rules you just made up'.  
  
For a moment he shakes with anger and Hyeong-bae looks at him questioningly.  
  
'Did you fuck her last night when you said goodbye?'  
  
Jiyong answers quickly, unthinking. He speaks clearly without emotion.  
  
'Yes. I fucked her.   
  
Hyeong-bae's jaw tightens and his nostrils flare.  
  
Jiyong tucks the shoebox further under his arm, grabs his keys from the table by the door and passes through it without another word.

 

 

* * *  
  


 

He parks his car a few streets away on a residential street. He sits in the shade of a tree and tries to decompress. He feels like a bug beneath someone's shoe. He can feel the sole pressed against his skull. He can feel himself flattening out on the ground beneath its weight.  
  
He doesn't know what to do.  
  
There was a measure of hope in what happened last night, in the vagueness of the threat. Now there is none. Even if he capitulates and follows Hyeong-bae's instructions, there is no release or escape from this. If he survives until the army, what then? What happens when he's gone? What happens when he gets out? There is no scenario in which Hyeong-bae grows tired of the game and simply disappears. He has lost his fucking mind.  
  
Jiyong scrolls through his phone contacts. He pauses on Seunghyun's name before moving past it, stopping instead on the newest addition. He stole the details this-morning off of Seunghyun's phone. He didn't ever want to use them. It was a passing fancy in a moment of desperation. He was trying to hedge his bets.  
  
Now he has little choice.  
  
Going to Yang for help would require telling the whole story to explain the gravity of the problem. His secret would come out. Talk and rumours would trickle down. It's hard enough to disappear a straight scandal, a gay one can't be wished away for anything. Likewise, there is no friend qualified to help. Not Youngbae or Daesung or Seungri or Xin. There is no-one he trusts with the details and saying, _a girl is blackmailing me_ won't cut it.  
  
He has nobody.  
  
Staring at the newest number in his phone, he makes the rash decision to call. He swipes and waits for the first ring. Not a friend but _someone_ \--- the only person who knows the full scope of his secret already. Not just the _man-loving_ part but the existence of Hyeong-bae too. There is nothing to lose and he can't sit on the street all day. He is tired and hungry and he needs advice. He needs someone to talk to.  
  
When John Lee answers on the fifth ring, he sounds wary of the anonymous caller. Jiyong explains who he is but grimaces at the long silence that follows his name. While he waits for an answer, his hand rubs his sore, aching neck.  
  
'I guess you're in Korea,' Jiyong says finally, filling the silence. 'I know you don't know me all that well and our last conversation wasn't that fun but if you have thirty minutes, I would really like to talk to you’.  
  
'I don't think that's a good idea'.  
  
A dog runs across the road in front of him and Jiyong watches it slink about between bins and brick walls. He lets go of his neck. For a moment he feels such a deep swell of hopelessness he almost hangs up. The dog comes towards the car, sniffing tentatively along the ground. It looks like Seunghyun's old dog. The one that died.  
  
Jiyong's voice breaks unexpectedly.  
  
'Look, I'm in trouble and I don't know who else to call. If you care about Seunghyun, please talk to me. I've fucked up and it affects him. It could ruin his life. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it. _Please._ Thirty minutes. That's all. Whenever you're free'.  
  
A long silence follows and Jiyong watches the dog scamper away down a dark alley. He closes his eyes and takes a wavering breath, resigned to whatever comes next.  
  
'Fine. I'm free now. I'll text you my address or do you already have that too?'

 

  
  
  
_*_

 

 

 

Half an hour later, John sits opposite him in a leather lounge chair. He looks tired and put upon. He has an elbow on the arm of his chair, supporting his head in his hand as if bored already by the interruption. There is a wine glass on the coffee table between them and a book face down with its pages splayed. Music plays faintly from another room. Jiyong takes note of his surroundings and thinks how similar it is to Seunghyun's tastes. Two minutes in John Lee's living-room and Jiyong understands how they have been friends for so long.  
  
He declines an offer for water and perches himself on the edge of his seat cushion, as if preparing for a quick escape. When John asks him what the problem is, he struggles to answer. The last time they met, John had the advantage of knowing everything already. Jiyong wonders if he is caught up now, if he knows that warning to end things with Seunghyun was disregarded. That feels like a long time ago now.  
  
'You told me to stay away from Seunghyun the last time we talked,' Jiyong proffers guiltily, 'but I didn't. I'm sure you know that already'.  
  
'I didn't know but I'm not surprised'.  
  
'Seunghyun didn't tell you?'  
  
'Seunghyun hasn't told me anything. We haven't spoken since you and I last met. He sent me a text a few days after you and I talked and asked me not to contact him again so I haven't'.  
  
Jiyong's mind reels.  
  
_'_ But you're friends?'  
  
'He doesn't feel we are any more'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
John sighs, as if pained to explain something so obvious.  
  
'He didn't like that I spoke to you. I assumed you told him that I warned you away from him or something to that effect and he stopped speaking to me. Simple'.  
  
Jiyong slumps back on the lounge and tries to wrap his head around that. He barely remembers mentioning John to Seunghyun; only in passing during one of their fights. He couldn't have said anything bad or serious enough to make Seunghyun cut ties with him.  
  
'But I didn't say anything! I didn't know he stopped speaking to you? I never said anything except that I spoke to you and you didn't think it was a great idea for us to see each other anymore. I never said anything more than that. I don't think I said more than one sentence to him about you'.  
  
'Well, it was enough,' John answers. 'He's stubborn and wilful and he didn't want me meddling in his life. Not where you were concerned. I tried to explain but he didn't want to hear it. I sent him a few texts and he never answered. That's the end of it'.  
  
'Well, I'll talk to him,' Jiyong answers. 'I'll explain. You were one of his best friends, I can't believe he doesn't want you in his life just because you and I had one conversation. Sure, I thought you were an asshole but you were only looking out for him and maybe you were right in the end. Maybe I should have stayed away from him'.  
  
John's eyebrows rise in faint interest.  
  
'Are we coming to the heart of the problem? Give me the _short_ version of the trouble you're in'.  
  
Jiyong folds his hands in his lap and takes a breath to bolster himself. He doesn't speak until he's sure his voice will come out clear and unemotional. He tries to sum up the past few months.  
  
'Seunghyun and I have been seeing each other since I last saw you. Dating I guess. We see other pretty often. Things have been good. Like they used to be mostly'. He pauses before continuing on. 'For reasons that won't fit into a short explanation, I didn't break up with Hyeong-bae, the guy I was already seeing. I dated them both of them at the same time. Hyeong-bae found out I cheated on him and he threatened me. He has videos of me. He doesn't know about Seunghyun yet but even if he never does, if these videos of me get out--- Seunghyun's life will be blown apart because of his proximity to me'.  
  
John unleashes such a dramatic put-upon sigh that Jiyong almost knocks that glass of wine off the table and onto the carpet.  
  
'First of all, what's in the videos?' John asks. 'How bad are they? Compromising sexual situations?'  
  
'Just about. I say things in them that can't be misinterpreted'.  
  
'And this guy, Hyeong-bae? He threatened you explicitly?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'And you believe he'll follow through?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
John repeats his earlier sigh and has on the same expression he did that day in the coffee shop. Disappointment mingled with a lack of understanding. _How did Seunghyun end up involved with such a mess._  
  
For all that, he reserves his harsh judgements. John doesn't criticise him or ridicule him for making such a profoundly stupid decision. After all, it is human relations 101--- _don't fuck two people at the same time._ Even children know that.  
  
'Why have you come to me?' John asks. 'What do you expect me to do for you?'  
  
'I don't know,' Jiyong answers tiredly. 'You're gay. You're in the entertainment industry. I suppose I thought you might have seen this happen before. You might know someone who was in a similar situation once'.  
  
'You think because I'm gay that I'm part of some underground gay communications network? I know all the other gays in Seoul? I haven't heard of a situation like this happening. Not with someone as famous as you are'.  
  
_'Oh'._  
  
So he is alone without precedent.  
  
Jiyong slumps back into the couch cushion and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Honestly, he didn't come here for that information but it was in the back of his mind all the same. It was a faint possibility. It is upsetting to have it quashed.  
  
'I didn't mean to imply that because you're gay you know all the other gay guys. I've got no realistic options,' Jiyong says easily. 'I had to explore the unlikely ones. I guess it was stupid. I had nothing to lose by asking'.  
  
He picks at the knee of his pants.  
  
'Truth be told, last time we spoke, yours was the only reasonable voice I'd heard in a long time, even if you weren't saying what I wanted to hear. You're the only person who knows my big secret. Maybe I was hoping you could give me some advice'.  
  
'You didn't take it last time I offered it'.  
  
'No, I didn't'.  
  
John releases a heavy sigh and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfortable. He gestures with his hand as if to say, _as you were._  
  
'Alright, give me the long version of this disaster'.  
  
So, Jiyong does.  
  
He recounts everything from the second he left that coffee shop after their first impromptu meeting until now. He tells John about he and Seunghyun and how things have been getting better and easier. He tells him about Seunghyun's mother almost disowning him and Hyeyoon being open and kind. He relays his hopes for his relationship with Seunghyun and their future together. He tells John how he _feels_ \--- all those gushing, insuppressible feelings he was too embittered to admit last time.  
  
He tells John how despite those hopes and feelings, he felt he owed Hyeong-bae _more_ so he suspended their break-up, waiting for the right time and the right words to let him down gently. He tells him how that backfired, how Hyeong-bae's grandfather died and how he changed. He tells John how Hyeong-bae tricked him last night and earlier today. The shower. The box. The struggle. The explicit threats.  
  
When he is finished, he has been speaking for almost 40 minutes.  
  
John looks pale when it's all said and done, as if things are worse than he imagined. This doesn't fill Jiyong with confidence. Even less when John focuses on certain parts above others.  
  
'He got physical with you? Has he done that before?'  
  
Jiyong shrugs, struggling to understand why out of the torrent of information he let loose, this is the first real question.  
  
'Not really'.  
  
'So _yes_ then?'  
  
'I didn't say that,' Jiyong answers. 'There have been a few times where-- but _no._ Never anything serious'.  
  
'Alleviate my concerns. Explain'.  
  
Jiyong feels a swell of defensiveness.  
  
'It's none of your business'.  
  
'You've done nothing but share personal things about yourself since you got here, but you won't talk about Hyeong-bae? Why not?'  
  
'Because nothing has ever happened. Not like what you're implying'.  
  
'What am I implying?'  
  
Jiyong flushes and folds his arms in front of him, embarrassed.  
  
'That he hurts me or something? That I'm a battered wife? It's not like that. He's never done anything like that before'.  
  
John stares at him for so long, Jiyong wonders if he isn't in a therapists office being probed for information on his childhood and suppressed traumas. He will be disappointed. There aren't any. There is nothing to fish for. He is determined not to say anything until John concedes defeat and admits he is off base but it doesn't happen. Jiyong finds himself talking after a while, before he even knows what he's doing.  
  
'He gets angry sometimes,' he concedes, 'but they're just fights. In a year we've barely fought at all. If we ever did it went both ways'.  
  
'Alright,' John says.  
  
Jiyong stares at the knee of his pants. Unwillingly, he thinks about the few fights they had throughout their relationship and the way Hyeong-bae's hand would always wrap around his wrist. He remembers that night in Sokcho when Hyeong-bae came back drunk and belligerent and fucked him against the sink, pulling out his hair. But those were all accidents, incidental moments. That day in the bedroom was a misunderstanding. Earlier today was an anomaly. Tempers flare. These last instances were his fault. Answers to provocation. John maintains his silent recrimination.  
  
_'What?'_ Jiyong stresses.  
  
'I didn't say anything'.  
  
'You're saying it with your _face._ What do you want me to say to you? It isn't like that. It's just small stuff. One time he pulled out some of my hair, but that was an accident, and he sometimes grabs me a little hard sometimes, but so what? It's not intentional. Once, he stopped me from leaving my apartment and that kind of scared me, but he just wanted to talk,' Jiyong says. ‘Once, he choked me, but that was---- _whatever._ That's it. In a year, that’s it’.  
  
'Where do I even begin?' John asks, dismayed. 'What do you mean he stopped you from leaving your apartment. How did he stop you? Physically?'  
  
'I was in the hallway,' Jiyong answers. 'He picked me up and threw me back inside but it isn't as bad as it sounds. He's just bigger than me. It was complicated. We were both--- worked up'.  
  
'And when he choked you?'  
  
'That wasn't like---- it was during _sex_ ,' Jiyong answers, embarrassed. 'Technically, I _said_ he could do it'.  
  
John eyes him carefully.  
  
'Technically? You mean you didn't want to?'  
  
'No. I said no a bunch of times but he just kept _pushing_ me, so I said fine'.  
  
'And what then? Did you like it?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Did you tell him that?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'While it was happening?'  
  
Jiyong flushes.  
  
'Did he _stop?'_  
  
Jiyong's lip quavers and he clenches his fist in frustration. It wasn't a big deal. It was such a non-event, such a small insignificant moment, wasn't it? He never thought about it again, or was that on purpose? This is nobodies business. With the whole story laid out, this is not the part he wants to talk about. It's meaningless.  
  
'What happened?' John asks.  
  
A tear rolls down Jiyong's cheek and he quickly brushes it away.  
  
'Nothing, okay? I mean what do you _think_ happened? He choked me. I think I passed out for a second, then he finished and got off me. He apologised afterwards. That's it. It was a misunderstanding. Everything that ever happened was like that. Just a misunderstanding or an accident. I'm not some sad charity case being battered by their spouse. He was always good to me'.  
  
'Did Seunghyun ever do anything like that to you? Use violence?'  
  
'Of course not'.  
  
'Why do you say it like that? _Of course not._ If Hyeong-bae getting rough is understandable and incidental, heated moments during fights that you can explain away; what about Seunghyun? Did you and Seunghyun ever fight?'  
  
'Of course'.  
  
'But he never touched you in anger?'  
  
Jiyong frowns in understanding.  
  
'Maybe you should think about that,' John answers, 'and stop making excuses. You've been talking for almost an hour and all I've heard are excuses for him and blame heaped upon yourself. No situation is this black and white, no matter what you've done. This man is obviously capable of hurting you if he wants to. You're in denial about the trouble you're in'.  
  
'I'm here aren't I? I know I'm in trouble'.  
  
'You think you're in theoretical trouble. That your career is at stake and Seunghyun's career and your life free of scandal is at stake. I don't think you're acknowledging the physical danger. What happened to you earlier today might be a drop in the ocean compared to what this man is capable of doing. You said yourself he almost broke your fingers. You said you almost cried from the pain. He sincerely hurt you. I don't think you're acknowledging what just _happened_ to you. You're trying to brush it off like it was nothing'.  
  
'It wasn't that serious'.  
  
'Of course it was. Do you think this man is capable of seriously hurting you?'  
  
Jiyong hesitates.  
  
'It's a simple question. What is your gut instinct telling you? If you make him angry, do you think now that your relationship is over and he feels hurt, that he might take it out on you physically?'  
  
'I suppose,' Jiyong answers. 'Maybe. So what? I can't do anything about it. I have to let him do what he wants'.  
  
John is silent for a moment, thinking. When he speaks again, his words are unexpected.  
  
'All those times in the past including what happened today, how did you react?'  
  
'With irritation'.  
  
'You fought back?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
Jiyong's throat closes up.  
  
'Because I deserved it, usually'.  
  
John looks at him pityingly.  
  
_'Don't,'_ Jiyong warns.  
  
'Can I give you my advice now?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'I think you're scared and you need help. More help than I can give you. You need to tell someone what's going on. If you don't, you're going to lose your mind and this guy is going to win before he even has a chance to leak those videos. This is not a little disagreement. This is an incredibly dangerous situation and I doubt you have any hope of getting it under control'.  
  
'Maybe you're right. He'll win no matter what. There's nothing I can do'.  
  
'Tell Seunghyun'.  
  
'And stress him out? He'll hate me. He's trying to rebuild his life. You want me to swoop in and knock it all down again? He's fragile'.  
  
'I haven't seen him for quite a while but I don't think I'm wrong in saying you're the one who's fragile. Seunghyun has problems but he's okay. He wakes up every morning and he tries to fix what's broken. He's stronger than you're making him out to be. You, on the other hand--'  
  
'Oh, fuck _you'._  
  
'Please. I think you've been strong and resilient for a long time but you've been struggling on your own for too long. Everything bad that happens to you, you obviously internalise it. You swallow it down where nobody can see it. You think everything is your fault. When bad things happen to you, you think you deserve it. You're at breaking point. You need help and not the kind I can give you. You need somebody who loves you to carry some of the burden'.  
  
'No'.  
  
'So, what then? What other choices do you have?'  
  
Jiyong's stomach sinks.  
  
'Hyeong-bae has all the power. What are my choices? I guess I could kill him or kill myself but I'm not a murderer'.  
  
'Don't even think that. Your life is worth more than one scandal'.  
  
Jiyong frowns. This isn't one scandal, it's the tip of the iceberg. The latest of dozens. His career should have been forfeit years ago. He has been running on borrowed time. John seems to intuit his thoughts and changes tack.  
  
'Fine. What do you think will happen to Seunghyun if you die?'  
  
'What will happen to him if I don't? If I let those videos come out? If I let the world scrutinise all my interactions with every man I've ever met? He'd have a nervous breakdown. I'm meant to support him, not ruin his life'.  
  
'First of all,' John answers, pained, 'support goes two ways. You're in a relationship. It's a _partnership_. You both have problems. You both ease the burdens of the other. Do you let him help you when you need it?'  
  
'He helps me'.  
  
'Does he _know_ that? Do you get strength from his presence or do you _talk_ to him? Do you let him know when he's needed? When you're in trouble? Do you give him the chance to _actively_ help you?'  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
'So _do_ that,' John suggests.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head in answer. He wipes his eyes and sniffs, feeling like an infant for the hundredth time today. He wants to go back to this-morning. He wants to sit on the floor and watch Seunghyun do banal things.  
  
'I can't burden him with my problems. He doesn't need this from me'.  
  
John swears bitterly and Jiyong's eyes widen in surprise. John looks at him derisively.  
  
'I know you're not this stupid'.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'Seunghyun loves you. He has loved you for ten years and will love you until the day he dies probably. You have _no_ idea'.  
  
'I know he loves me'.  
  
'Do you? When I was with him in Japan and he told me about your relationship, it was like seeing him for the first time. He would drink himself to sleep and drink himself awake and there was nothing I could do to help him. The only time he could put the bottle down for five minutes was to talk about you. When I wasn't there, he would call me just to talk about you'.  
  
Jiyong's chest tightens.  
  
'You want to spend your life with Seunghyun?' John continues. 'Well, he wants that too. He would give up everything he has just to buy more time with you before he thinks you'll get married and have kids and leave him behind'.  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
'He told me you had no future after enlistment and he was still so madly in love with you despite that. He would have done anything for you, even knowing or believing he only had a finite time to spend with you. It didn't matter. If he knew you felt the same way as he does? If he had the slightest _inkling_ that you want something more permanent? Jiyong, he would live in a cave in the farthest reaches of the globe if you were with him. If these videos are released and your career is destroyed and his along with it, so what? You would still have each other. There is nothing you could do that would change that. You can't honestly believe he would value his reputation and career more than your life. Your problems _are_ his. That's what he signed up for. No matter what, he would sign up again and again and again'.  
  
Jiyong wipes a tear from his cheek.  
  
'The question is whether or not Seunghyun is enough for you,' John continues. 'If these videos leak and you have to go into hiding and reassess your entire life, could you do that with him? Or is it more important that your name goes down in history in a positive light rather than a scandalised one? Either way, killing yourself achieves very little'.  
  
_It would spare me the pain,_ Jiyong thinks.  
  
It would spare his parents and his sister the shame the media and country alike would heap upon them. It was bad enough during his lesser scandals, this one would follow them for the rest of their lives.  
  
Jiyong feels John's gaze upon him and he shrinks under the weight of it. He's _right._ Seunghyun, his parents, his sister-- they would rather live with that shame for fifty plus years than lose him. Entertaining suicide as a last resort is unfair. He doesn't want to die anyway. Maybe he _could_ survive the shame and derision and hatred if he was surrounded by the people he loves. His parents would forgive him the scandal. Seunghyun said he would understand eventually.  
  
'Is all that true?' Jiyong asks, trying to change the subject. 'About me? Seunghyun said all that stuff? You think he wants to stay with me for a long time? After the army? Indefinitely?'  
  
John looks at him pityingly again.  
  
'You have so much self-hatred locked up in here,' he says tapping his chest. 'Even when you know something is true, you still doubt it. The things you two have been through together and separately would break most people, but you're still together. You still love each other. You still want the same things,' John says. 'But Jiyong, if you _love_ him, you'll tell him what's going on _._ You should have enough respect and faith in him to believe he can shoulder your problems the way you do his'.  
  
'Why tell him if he can't fix it?'  
  
'You don't know that he can't help'.  
  
'Is he a magician?'  
  
'No, just a guy in love. If there's anything he'll fight for, it's you. Give him the benefit of the doubt'.  
  
'You think he can fix my problems better than I can?'  
  
'I do'.  
  
Jiyong winces.  
  
'Because---' John continues, 'on some level you think you deserve what is happening to you. You're not prepared to fight the way you need to. I think you would kill someone to save Seunghyun's life but you would let yourself die. That's why you need to tell him, or if not him somebody _else_ who you love and trust but Seunghyun most fits the bill, don't you think?'  
  
Jiyong huffs quietly.  
  
'You annoy me a lot'.  
  
'Likewise. Are you going to take my advice? Any of it?'  
  
'Probably not'.  
  
'I didn't think so,' John sighs. 'Before you blindly dismiss everything I said, consider why you came here. You must have known I couldn't help you but you came anyway. I think you wanted me to tell you what I have. I think you wanted permission to tell Seunghyun what is happening to you. It's okay to ask for help. In this instance it's _vitally_ necessary. You aren't weak for seeking it out. He needs to know. I think you should go to the police but I know you'll never do that. Seunghyun is your next best option'.  
  
Jiyong frowns and shrugs dolefully.  
  
'Maybe'.  
  
John grabs the wine glass off the table, long warm by now and downs it in one go. He slumps back into his armchair and rests his head in his hand.  
  
'Are you going to go home when you leave here?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
John sighs and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand.  
  
'Don't,' he says. 'I really don't think you should go back. Stay here'.  
  
'If I don't go home, he'll punish me'.  
  
'Did he say that?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
John sighs heavily in frustration. For all their differences last time they met, John is fair and kind. He wants to help, he just doesn't know how. Jiyong is moved by his efforts to comfort him and advise him. He's grateful John spoke to him at all when he and Seunghyun aren't speaking. He had no reason to do that. No reason to be so--  
  
Jiyong's eyes draw closed. It's time to leave but has nowhere to go from here. It's only 1 in the afternoon. He isn't ready to go home yet. He could go to work but he wouldn't be able to focus. He could call Youngbae or Seungri or even Daesung but he wouldn't know what to say. He would give himself away. When he sees Youngbae again he wants them to laugh and reconnect. He can't do that right now.  
  
Mostly, he wants to _sleep._ More than anything else, he wants to close his eyes and wake up a week from now with everything bad behind him. He wants to go back to the early hours of this-morning, falling asleep on Seunghyun's arm.  
  
'Can I ask you a favour?' Jiyong asks hesitantly, opening his eyes.  
  
'Sure'.  
  
'Can I take a nap here?'  
  
John's confusion shows.  
  
'I barely had any sleep last night and the room I'll be sleeping in at home doesn't have a lock on the door. I don't want to go back when I'm this tired. I know that's a really weird thing to ask you,' Jiyong says hurriedly before blushing from embarrassment. 'Actually, I can just stay in a hotel for a few hours-- sorry, I don't know why---'  
  
'No,' John cuts in. 'It's fine. You can sleep here. I'm home all day, you can sleep in the main bedroom'.  
  
Jiyong feels such a swell of relief, he finally allows his tiredness to settle. He stops holding it at bay. He didn't want to stay in a hotel. By some strange reckoning, John feels like an extension of Seunghyun and this apartment an extension of Seunghyun's. A safe space. Somewhere he can let go for a little while.  
  
He lets John lead him to the bedroom and sinks down on the right side while John closes the curtains. The mattress is enormous and impossibly soft. It's the softest thing he's ever sat on. He feels like he could disappear inside it-- sink down and never come out again.  
  
John dials down the air-conditioning as cold as it will go.  
  
‘Get under the blankets,' he explains. 'You'll sleep better that way'.  
  
Jiyong's exhaustion finally overtakes him. He almost cries from gratitude. He pulls off his socks and slides under the blankets, letting the mattress mould around him.  
  
'I stink. I'm sorry. I haven't changed my clothes in two days'.  
  
'That's okay'.  
  
John waits at the door to see him get settled.  
  
Before Jiyong gives him the all clear to shut the door, he says, with half his face buried in the pillow beneath him;  
  
'I don't _hate_ myself'.  
  
John stands in the half-light of the doorway.  
  
'You're a poor liar,' he answers gently. 'But if you want my honest opinion about your situation, I think you fucked up very badly. You made terrible choices for a long time and it was always going to end in disaster. I think you knew that before you started and you did it all anyway'.  
  
Jiyong blushes at the truth in that.  
  
'But what is happening to you now,' John continues, 'is _not_ your fault. This is not a just consequence of your actions. What you're being threatened with and what has already happened to you is too much. You made a mistake. That's all it was. You can grow from this. You don't have to bury yourself. You and Seunghyun will be okay, if you trust him. After today, I think he could do a lot worse'.  
  
'You don't even know me,' Jiyong mumbles.  
  
'I have listened to hours upon _hours_ of conversation about you, and today you filled in the blanks. I probably know as much about you as your family does, thanks to our mutual friend'.  
  
Jiyong snorts quietly into the pillow at the thought of Seunghyun regaling an unwilling friend with stories and factoids about _Kwon Jiyong._ It makes warmth bloom in his chest. Maybe there is some truth in what John said. Maybe Seunghyun would want to know everything.  
  
_Maybe I did come here for permission to tell him._  
  
'This carries little weight with you, I'm sure,' John says finally, 'but I think you'll be okay. I don't think your life is supposed to stop here. You're meant for bigger things'.  
  
Jiyong lets these be the last words he hears before falling asleep.

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

  
  
  
Jiyong sits on the lounge with his legs tucked beneath him and stares at the shadowy orange ring of the kitchen light. He narrows his eyes and the light shrinks; he opens them wide and it expands. Searching the dark living room, the light imprints on everything he sees. He closes his eyes and sees it still.  
  
Hyeong-bae has been missing for twenty-four hours, maybe more. Jiyong doesn't know the particulars. There are a lot of unaccounted hours between them parting in the afternoon and him coming home later that night. Rested and fed, intent on assessing the damage before taking his problems to Seunghyun, he found the apartment empty.  
  
He waited but Hyeong-bae never came home.  
  
He couldn't go straight to Seunghyun with his tale of woe, despite John's reassurances and valid points. He had to know the situation first. He had to be certain there was no way out. As it stood, Hyeong-bae had hours to deal with what happened. In the intervening hours he might have calmed down. He usually did. When they fought he would falter and change his mind. Time would soften him. Guilt would undo his resolve with time. Jiyong was banking on it before he went to the last extreme.  
  
So he took a chance and came home. If his head was still on the guillotine, he wanted to see it in the light of the day, not the fog of a bitter argument. He wanted Hyeong-bae to look him in the eye, when all that rawness was a little less so, and tell him he meant _all_ of it. That the threat still stood and the rules still held. _If you don't do what I say, I'll ruin you._  
  
But there was no Hyeong-bae.  
  
Now it's newly dark, the night _after_ their fight, and he is still missing. Not knowing makes Jiyong nervous. It's better to see him and know what he's doing than to wonder. He searches message-boards online for his own name and finds nothing. Knowing his videos haven't been splashed across the internet provides surprisingly little comfort. Sitting on the precipice is painful, like a needle in the eye.  
  
In the interim he has nothing but time to wonder and panic and prepare. Though he holds off on his big confession, he calls Seunghyun for other reasons; to hear his voice and to keep calm, to think about what might happen when he does tell the truth (if it comes to that). He mulls over John's words from their earlier conversation. If everything falls apart, really and truly falls apart; their lives broken into so many pieces there is no hope of putting them back together-- maybe that _is_ survivable if they're together.  
  
When Seunghyun answers the phone it's with a smile on his face. Jiyong can hear it in his voice. He recognises it. When Seunghyun talks, his lightness fills the room and his words preclude any possibility of Jiyong staying sombre and stressed.  
  
'It was the yoga, right?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'It has you calling up for more of _this--'_  
  
Seunghyun's voice dips at the end, like he's gesturing emphatically.  
  
'I can't _see_ what you're doing, you know that right? This is a telephone call. I'm not in the room with you'.  
  
'I'm doing a sexy hip thing. You can't tell?'  
  
'You must be doing it wrong'.  
  
'That hurts a bit'.  
  
'Your hip?'  
  
Seunghyun sends a fake laugh down the line that makes Jiyong feel at home; or closer to it. It makes the apartment feel less like a prison or a crime scene. When their little repartee is over, Jiyong dives into the hard stuff. A drilling on Seunghyun's over-dramatic dumping of John Lee. Playing a psychoanalyst to his relationship is a nice distraction. Plus it's the right thing to do.  
  
_We ran into each other in a coffee shop_. That's the lie Jiyong decides to tell. He asks plainly why they don't talk anymore and Seunghyun offers a beleaguered sigh in return.  
  
'It's none of your business,' he says.  
  
'But it is if it's _because_ of me, or because of something I said. You've been friends for years. You don't miss him?'  
  
Seunghyun maintains an obstinate silence but it falls away with time. Jiyong drags out of him the whole story, which is pretty succinct and much in line with John's telling of it. He didn't like being told who not to date. More to the point, he didn't like Jiyong being ambushed into hearing the same thing. John verbalising the idea that they might be better off apart was a betrayal too far, a breach of their trust.  
  
'He just wants you to be happy,' Jiyong says pointedly. 'He wants what's best for you. You can't hold a grudge forever because he cares about what happens to you, even if he says things that piss you off sometimes. Friends do that'.  
  
'So what? I'm _mad_ at him'.  
  
'So _be_ mad, but call him and talk to him about it, otherwise what's the point? You're the one suffering. Haven't you heard that adage about drinking poison and expecting the other person to die?'  
  
_'Is_ that an adage?'  
  
_'Seunghyun!'_  
  
'Was this _really_ a coincidental meeting or were you ambushed again? Did he ask you to call me?'  
  
Jiyong stares at the television, keeping an ear out for a key in the door. In a way he is starting to imagine Hyeong-bae might never return; his problem having resolved itself without him knowing.  
  
'He's forty-four years old, Seunghyun. He's not sitting at home waiting for your call day and night, like a lovesick teen or thinking up convoluted ways to contact you. He is your friend though, still. I think you should talk to him'.  
  
A low groan rolls down the line.  
  
'You're trying to change your life in all these big and important ways,' Jiyong continues gingerly, 'and you're doing that, but it's _easier_ when you have good friends. I don't think ditching him because he pissed you off once is the right choice. He saved your life. If there's anyone on earth you can rely on, it's him, surely'.  
  
'You're kind of pissing me off now too'.  
  
Seunghyun says this so deadpan, Jiyong lets a crisp laugh slip out. He recovers quickly and tries his best to sound censured.  
  
'I know,' he says. 'I'm sorry. I'm not going to hassle you about it, I just wanted to say something. If the only reason you're not speaking is because he told me to stay away from you, try and get over it. It was only a suggestion. He was trying to be your friend. He never said anything to me that wasn't true, but if you think he got it wrong, tell him so and move on. I know you miss talking to him, whether you admit it or not. He was one of your best friends. You can't just shut the door and forget about it. It's not that easy'.  
  
'Are you finished?'  
  
Jiyong untangles his legs and lays lengthwise on the couch with his head on the arm-rest, facing the door so he can see it still. He can't imagine it actually opening.  
  
'Yeah, I'm finished,' he says. 'Don't be mad at me. I just wanted to say that. You don't _have_ to play with the other kids on the playground if you don't want'.  
  
'But who'll push me on the swings?' Seunghyun answers morosely, not missing a beat.  
  
'That is something to consider'.  
  
Jiyong knows his few words have made a difference. Even if Seunghyun maintains his grudge, he will _think_ about fixing it. That's all Jiyong can do. Beyond that, he doesn't want to meddle.  
  
For a while, they make small-talk. Seunghyun talks him through the movie playing on his TV. It is muted so he has no idea what's going on but he narrates the action on screen regardless until 45 minutes have elapsed, filled with sporadic conversation and Jiyong listening attentively to his understanding of everything that happens on screen. A tale of two siblings up against the world; Seunghyun sporadically recreates their imagined conversations in cartoony voices.  
  
'Oh,' he says after a time, crestfallen, 'they're not siblings'.  
  
'Did they kiss?'  
  
'They kissed'.  
  
Jiyong flicks his eyes back to his own muted TV screen. He figured out quickly what channel Seunghyun was watching and deduced the actual plot a few minutes later. It has been an experience listening to his wildly inaccurate interpretations of everything taking place since.  
  
'I figured that out 20 minutes ago'.  
  
'Why didn't you _say_ anything?'  
  
'I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm amazed you didn't realise they were dating sooner?'  
  
'I don't know what boys and girls do in their free time together,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
Jiyong runs his fingers through his hair, trying to untangle a stubborn knot. His eyes drift back to the door. 'I don't know,' he says. 'I imagine they do all the same stuff you do; private gallery tours, spilling ice-cream down your shirt'.  
  
'That happened _once_ '.  
  
  


 

*  


 

  
  
They talk for two hours and Jiyong keeps his eyes on the door for most of it. Hyeong-bae doesn't come home. Jiyong sits in the dark for hours, unable to sleep, unable to retire to the spare bedroom, unable to do anything but stare at the door and wait. When Seunghyun gets tired and they end the call, Jiyong stays where he is, waiting for the second night in a row.  
  
When his eyes finally grow heavy, he drags his feet into the spare room. Though not afraid, he isn't exactly _un_ afraid either. He puts a chair behind the door and on top of that a stack of books and a porcelain ornament. If the door opens while he's sleeping, this precarious tower of things will hit the ground and wake him up.  
  
He doesn't need to worry in the end.  
  
He sleeps like the dead and doesn't dream or doesn't remember it. When he wakes up at lunch time and presses his ear to the back of the door, he is met with silence. He finds every room empty and unchanged from the night before. Hyeong-bae didn't come home. That makes his absence forty-eight hours long and counting. The not knowing becomes the main source of Jiyong's anxiety. Better to know where Hyeong-bae is and what he's doing than to spend hours in wait, oblivious.  
  
He sporadically checks message boards and naver for his own name but there is nothing. His answering machine and cell phone aren't lit up with a dozen frenzied calls from lawyers or the company. From the outside looking in, today is a quiet and relaxing day. Banal. Only Jiyong spends it in turmoil. He bites his nails down to nothing. He picks at the same biscuit for an hour. He passes two hours watching a foreign news channel he doesn't understand. His mind races but he can't focus on any one thought. The hours pass slowly.  
  
As the sun sets, he sits in the kitchen and stares at the tiled wall. He doesn't know what he wants. If Hyeong-bae walks through the door right now, what happens? What does he want him to say? If Hyeong-bae is repentant and guilty and sorry for what happened between them, what then? If he's still angry and prone to sudden outbursts? What happens? In either case, how long can this go on? Where is the line _?_  
  
It makes sense to wait and see. Jiyong thinks about setting himself a window of time. A couple of days maybe, to see what happens and see how things unfold. A few days to try and extricate himself from this _predicament._ At the end of that window, if he hasn't found a way out, he'll tell Seunghyun everything. It seems like a good compromise. He isn't giving up but isn't quite begging for help yet either. Isn't that a good plan? Something doable?  
  
Ingenuity sometimes springs forth from constrained time. If his back is to the wall and the clock is running out, maybe he'll figure this out. If Hyeong-bae comes home and there is even the slightest chance this damage can be undone----  
  
Jiyong rests his face on the counter and his mind drifts.  


 

  
*

 

 

When he stumbles into the kitchen after a few hours of sleep, it's past midnight and pitch black. He rakes through his knotted hair with sleep-weakened figures, his eyes open only wide enough to find the fridge. He squints against the light of the open door and pulls out a bottle of water, drinking half of it in one go.  
  
Then he sees him.  
  
Hyeong-bae is at the other end of the kitchen, leaning against the counter in the dark. In his surprise, Jiyong lets go of the fridge door and it shuts, immersing them in darkness. The light is snuffed out. He feels a quick swell of panic and fumbles for the handle again, regaining his mired visibility. In the faint light, Hyeong-bae is closer than he was.   
  
Jiyong isn't scared, just wary. He waited so long for him to come home, he didn't expect him to be actually be here. Not in the dark. Not in the middle of the night. Not lurking in the kitchen like he is. It's unexpected.  
  
He unconsciously places himself a step behind the open door. The chill makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. He tries to clear his voice of fatigue and surprise, to sound as neutral as possible. To feel this out.  
  
'Where were you?'  
  
'Work'.  
  
'Before that'.  
  
'A motel'.  
  
It's a surprise. That's where he's been instead of at his apartment? Why didn't he go there? Which motel? Why? Jiyong stops himself from asking all the fresh questions this raises. He has to be careful with his words. In his sleep addled state, he tries to phrase this delicately. He chooses his words purposefully.  
  
'How long have you been home?'  
  
Home. Not a battlefield. Not a war-zone. Home. If he acts like this is reparable, it will be. He wants Hyeong-bae to feel like he belongs here. They have to avoid conflict. There is no way out for him that way. But Hyeong-bae doesn't answer. If he hears him at all, he doesn't show it. He stares at the floor and doesn't move.   
  
Jiyong wants to ask if he's alright, if something _happened_ in the intervening hours since their last meeting but he first thinks of all the answers that question can elicit.   
  
He doesn't ask.  
  
Instead, he watches Hyeong-bae carefully and sees that he's drunk. In his work clothes, with the shadow of stubble forming around his jaw. Hyeong-bae sways every now and then, almost imperceptibly. He clears his throat like there's something stuck in it.

Jiyong extends his water bottle between them and Hyeong-bae takes it. He swallows it down it one go and only then looks up. He looks miserable and sorry, like he needs a long hug. He moves to speak but finds it difficult. Jiyong tries to keep his face neutral while he watches him. It takes a few more observations to realise Hyeong-bae feels _guilty._ He can't speak because he's embarrassed. He is trying to address something but can't. He keeps his eyes on the ground because he can't make eye contact.  
  
At first, Jiyong feels a swell of pity. A year of ingrained feelings and reactions aren't so easy to dismiss or break. He wants to run a hand through Hyeong-bae's hair and hug him. He wants to tell him it will be alright. He looks so pitiful, it moves him. It's his fault. He wants to fix it.   
  
But he can't.  
  
He won't ever be able to fix it.  
  
Knowing that, he feels a swell of something else. Hope. If Hyeong-bae feels guilty for what happened between them, maybe the core of that is guilt for his _threats._ If Jiyong can foster that guilt, maybe he can still get out of this intact. If he plays his cards right, maybe they can part ways without the world ending.  
  
_We've both made mistakes, let's let it all go._  
  
Jiyong avoids any sentimentality or expressions or actions that might be taken as pity or interest or disinterest. He tries to be completely neutral until he figures out exactly how to proceed. He's too tired to make those decisions and if he fucks up now, that could be the end of it.  
  
In the most neutral voice he can muster he speaks, not unkindly, before going back to the spare room.  
  
'Goodnight then'.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods.  
  
'Good night'.

  


  
*

 

 

The next day, things are much the same. When Jiyong emerges warily from his room, there is no sign of Hyeong-bae at all. He spends half the day wondering whether that meeting in the kitchen was a dream. The empty bottle in the trash is the only evidence that it took place. A sudden meeting in the dark. A few words. Nothing else.  
  
In the bathroom, he lifts his shirt in front of the mirror and winces at the ugly red, feathery lines criss-crossing his stomach. There is a sideways 'v' cutting through his belly-button where the shoebox dug into his flesh. Looking at the lingering bruise now, he lets himself relive the little pains. The back of his neck feels tender still. He takes a photo with his phone so he can see it and thinks faint marks are visible beneath his hair.  
  
Hyeong-bae did that to him, accidentally or not, impassioned or not. He was enraged and bitter and broken and lost control of himself. Last night in the kitchen he was completely changed. Jiyong wonders _which_ was the aberration; if their next meeting will be back to anger or if last night’s guilty silence will continue.  
  
He has to wait to find out. Hyeong-bae doesn't come home until almost 10pm. Jiyong is sitting on the lounge, half watching a movie when he does. He is too engaged by the dialogue on screen. When he realises Hyeong-bae is back, it's too late to move or retreat into the bedroom. He can't abruptly get up and leave, that might annoy him or provoke him so he stays where he is.  
  
Hyeong-bae sinks down into the arm chair opposite. His eyes settle on the TV. For a while, they sit together in silence-- neither paying close attention to what is happening on screen. Jiyong keeps thinking he should speak but can't. He has no idea what to say. Eventually, after maybe fifteen minutes or more, Hyeong-bae takes the initiative and speaks in a gravelly, low voice.  
  
'I got carried away the other day'.  
  
He is so quiet, he is almost inaudible.  
  
'I'm sorry'.  
  
They make eye contact and Jiyong offers a passive smile in return. He is too stunned and hopeful to say anything at first. Before he can get his shit together and answer with _words_ or the conversation can progress, Hyeong-bae removes himself from the chair and leaves the room. He goes into the main bedroom and closes the door behind him.  


  
  
  
*  


  
  
The next day, things are the same. Jiyong wakes up and Hyeong-bae is gone. He doesn't return until late at night. They share a few words in the kitchen about the broken elevator and Hyeong-bae disappears again into the bedroom, locking himself away.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what to make of it.  
  
He is grateful not to find himself in a literal hell, where every time they cross paths, Hyeong-bae yanks on his hair or punches him in the face, deserved though that might be. But the nothingness of their interactions makes him feel restless. How many days are left until he has to say goodbye to his life for two years? 18? 19? How many of those days can be spent in this limbo _,_ waiting for something definitive to happen?  
  
He can't let this go on. He can't find himself on the day before enlistment wondering where he stands. He needs time to deal with the consequences of whatever is going to happen.  
  
Two weeks.  
  
If he allows himself four days to make something happen, to make a choice either way-- to wriggle out of this problem or face the end of his career-- that leaves him _two weeks_ before enlistment to judge the succeeding storm. Two weeks to spend with his family. Two weeks to spend with whoever is left on his side.  
  
Four days to fix it.  
  
It's not a lot of time but he _has_ no time to let things happen naturally. He has to affect change or it will happen _to_ him. He can't be a prisoner in this apartment until the end. He can't survive two years in the army without spending time with his family first. He needs to wake up to his mother’s cooking. He needs his father to decry his golf skills. He needs his sister to offer terrible advice. He needs to feel normal, like he can survive it. He can't do that if he's a prisoner in his own home.  
  
After two years absent, maybe he won't have a career to come back to anyway. Maybe there won't be anything to save. Better to enlist with his family behind him than to stay here, trying to defend a castle that may crumble on its own.  
  
Four days.  
  
He can do this. He can measure the situation in that time. He can find the right words to say. He can play on Hyeong-bae's guilt, if his own guilt doesn't fuck it up. He can get out of this still. He can.  
  
If not, he'll tell Seunghyun.  
  
In four days, he'll warn him of the impending doom and then he'll blow apart his own life to get it over and done with; so it happens by his own hand and not someone else's. He'll tell Hyeong-bae to _get out, release the videos,_ whatever he feels he has to do. _Do it-- just do it somewhere else. It's over._  
  
Maybe he'll release a statement or post a poignant picture on instagram that spills his secret to the masses. 'I love men _and_ women!' Make it seem like he's unashamed and in control when the videos spread like a virus across the internet. But what if he does that and Hyeong-bae never releases them?  
  
The endless diverging roads these two choices can take gives Jiyong a blinding headache, but they're all he has. Time is running out. He has to do something. He can't wait for things to resolve on their own any more. Four days. Come what may, in four days he'll do whatever he has to.

  
  
  
  
* * *

 

Hyeong-bae is gone again the next day and Jiyong has nothing to do in his absence so he chats with Youngbae on the phone for a while and then cleans the apartment. Somehow these two singular things take up the majority of his day.  
  
He does take a few breaks, fueled by distraction. When Hyeong-bae comes home earlier than usual, he is sat on the ground with a jigsaw puzzle spread out in front of him. He has two corners finished and some random clumps from the middle. He suspects at least 100 pieces are missing.  
  
Startled by Hyeong-bae's sudden appearance, hours earlier than usual, Jiyong catches a glimmer of amusement on his face when he first walks in. It's just a flash. Hyeong-bae controls his expression (or more likely, remembers that he's a bad person) and that moment disappears quickly. Their happy life together is over and their individual foibles are no longer cute or endearing.  
  
Jiyong understands this when they make eye contact and he becomes miserable in an instant. He isn't able to say anything targeted. He can't say anything to play on Hyeong-bae's guilt or indecisiveness. He can't work towards his emancipation. He just feels _bad._ It stops him from doing or saying anything at all.  
  
For whatever reason, Hyeong-bae doesn't go straight to the bedroom like he has the last few nights. He sits in the lounge-room and turns on the TV. Jiyong sits where he is, a few feet behind the lounge and watches the back of his head.  
  
His phone rings in his pocket. It vibrates anyway. Caller ID shows it's Seunghyun. Jiyong grimaces at the unexpected call. They usually talk on the second phone and he always rings Seunghyun, never the other way around. Seunghyun knows it's dangerous so why is he calling? Jiyong can't answer with Hyeong-bae six feet away so he ignores it. Maybe it was a mistake.  
  
Then it rings again.  
  
_Seunghyun._  
  
Maybe something has happened. Isn't that the most likely explanation, rather than he suddenly forgot the rules? Jiyong ignores the call and sends a hurried text.  


[JY: Has something happened?]  
  
[SH: Answer the phone]  


Jiyong's stomach drops. When the phone vibrates again, he answers it. He stays where he is and speaks mere feet from Hyeong-bae's ears because to take the call anywhere else would be suspicious.  
  
_'Hello?_ '  
  
'Are you okay?'  
  
'Yes?'  
  
Seunghyun huffs a little sigh of relief or maybe frustration. Oddly, it can go either way.  
  
'You didn't answer your other phone'.  
  
'I don't have it with me'.  
  
'You sound weird. Can you not talk?'  
  
'Not really,' Jiyong answers, hoping Seunghyun implicitly understands what that means and why. The answers he gives have to be simple and unexciting. Nothing that might arouse the imagination, least of all now when things are looking his way. Hyeong-bae outright apologised yesterday. The next few days are crucial.  
  
'Can you come out?'  
  
'Not really,' Jiyong answers again.  
  
'There's no chance? I really need to see you, it's important'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
Seunghyun sighs heavily like a man with burdens and Jiyong becomes a little worried. He wants to ask him what's going on but how will that sound to Hyeong-bae, unmoved from his position on the couch? He must be listening to every word.  
  
'Please meet me'.  
  
_'Hyung'._  
  
Jiyong tries to put a dozen unsaid things behind that word and hopes the male reference will put Hyeong-bae at ease or allay any simmering suspicions or curiosity. He tries to say with that one word; _I can't just come out! Tell me what the problem is! Explain!_ Thankfully Seunghyun seems to understand, mostly.  
  
'Is he listening to you now?'  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'If we can come up with a good excuse and make it sound believable, do you think you can leave for a while?'  
  
Jiyong sighs quietly.  
  
'Maybe'.  
  
'Alright,' Seunghyun says optimistically, suddenly more lively than he was moments ago. 'Let’s figure it out. Pretend I'm a friend,' he says. 'You know, like Choi Seunghyun. A friend who wants to grab a drink. We could post a picture on instagram together. It's the perfect alibi'.  
  
'I don't think so,' Jiyong answers.  
  
He doesn't want Hyeong-bae to even remember Seunghyun exists at this point.  
  
'It's a good excuse. It's the perfect excuse actually. Just do it, okay? I need to see you'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'I just _do_ , okay? Please'.  
  
Jiyong feels his face flush from a blend of embarrassment, irritation and desire, because annoying as this untimely vagueness is, he wants to see Seunghyun too.  
  
'Is this actually important? Not just boredom or wanting someone to drink with?'  
  
'It's important,' Seunghyun answers earnestly. 'So say whatever you have to say to get out of that apartment and do it. When you're out of earshot or in the car, you can call me back, okay? Soon, preferably'.  
  
Jiyong groans inwardly and weighs up the pros and cons of taking this risk. Hyeong-bae's threat still echoes vividly in his mind. If he sees his mistress, he'll _know_. That's what he said. Is it worth the danger so close to the end?  
  
_'Please,'_ Seunghyun implores him. He sounds genuinely in need and Jiyong thinks it must be serious or he wouldn't ask him to take this risk-- then again, he doesn't know what's happened. He has no idea.  
  
'Alright,' Jiyong answers. 'But just for a while. I can't be out long'.  
  
'Great,' Seunghyun answers. 'Thank-you. Call me when you're in the car'.  
  
'Okay'.  
  


  


*

 

 

 

Because it's so early, he takes the risk and tells Hyeong-bae the truth-ish. A friend needs him for a few hours. He'll be back by curfew. Hyeong-bae takes this at face value or doesn't have the heart to fight him. They exchange impersonal goodbyes and Jiyong leaves.  
  
When he calls Seunghyun from the car, all he can say is, _'come over'_. Jiyong tells him a dozen times that he _can't._ Though he's taking this risk, he can't go to Seunghyun's apartment. In his paranoia he thinks Hyeong-bae might have one of those tracking apps on his phone. Maybe he's bugged the car. Maybe he knows Jiyong is always driving to _that_ apartment and this will seal the deal. He'll know.  
  
'We have to meet somewhere else. A coffee shop or something'.  
  
Seunghyun protests so strongly, Jiyong almost gives in, but in the end, he wins out. They meet in a car park across town and he gets into Seunghyun's car. He expects him to look upset or angry or _something_ to justify the necessity of this meeting but he looks normal. He seems fine. When Jiyong gets in the car, he smells faintly of cologne.  
  
'This wasn't an emergency was it?'  
  
'It was to me,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'I wanted to see your face. I missed you'.  
  
'Next time I'll send you a picture!'  
  
Sporadically, people pass through the car park until Jiyong gives Seunghyun directions to somewhere they can go and talk, just for a while. A rest-stop on the way out of the city. It's always empty. He used to go there sometimes to unwind and be alone. They can park there and talk in private. It's off the main road. Secluded.  
  
So they go.  
  
At the rest stop, they hop into the back-seat so they can sit beside each other. They talk about nothing in particular. Wasting time. It's nice just to be in the same place. Jiyong finds a packet of chips under the seat that are still in date and opens them. They share the packet between them. At one point, Seunghyun takes his hand and slides an unusually large chip over his ring finger.  
  
'Are you proposing to me with a chip?'  
  
'It's more like a promise ring,' Seunghyun answers. 'For chastity?'  
  
'Because you're horny?'  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer. He just slides a chip onto his own ring finger and nods knowingly. As if a chip can make up for their not touching for weeks and weeks. Jiyong feels the temptation. They quickly change the conversation. Even in the car, all the sounds of nature -- thick in the woods ahead of them-- are loud. Every now and then the wind brings in the sound of dogs barking in nearby neighbourhoods.  
  
'I miss my dog'.  
  
'Gaho's not living with you?'  
  
'No. I took him to the pension a few months ago when things started getting complicated,' Jiyong answers morosely. 'I didn't want him picking up on all the tension and weird vibes'.  
  
'He's a dog, not a baby'.  
  
'He's an _evolved_ dog who picks up on things, trust me. I'm glad he isn't around now. He's probably better off with Dad. I miss him though'.  
  
'Go and see him,' Seunghyun says. 'He's not that far away'.  
  
Jiyong considers it. Obviously, he can't go in the next few days, with his restrictions. It was risk enough to spare the time to come here. Then again, he thought this was an emergency.  
  
'I will,' he says eventually. 'I was thinking I might spend my last few days at the pension anyway. Mom will be there. Maybe my sister too. I think Dad was quietly counting on it. A big farewell'.  
  
He knows deep down this is what he'll do either way. Whether his life blows up or not. The pension is a place to unwind or hide. He knows his father hasn't taken any bookings for that week. For a moment, he wonders if Seunghyun would go with him if he asked. He can easily imagine all the mundane things they might do together. Seunghyun could wade around the pool fully clothed or crash a quad bike into the retaining wall out front. They could spend time together. The last of their time.  
  
Jiyong wonders what it would be like to have Seunghyun be a part of his family, not just in his head but in actuality. To have him be a real physical presence in the room. Seunghyun and his family thrown together. Jiyong wants to see that. He wants to _experience_ it. He wants to know how they interact and get along now. He wants to look across a table and see everyone he loves together and for that life to seem more than a fantasy.   
  
He shakes off the inclination, mostly. He avoids the question and tries to tamp down any expectation that Seunghyun would say yes, even if he did ask. He can't expect to monopolise his last days of freedom.  
  
'Do you have plans for these last two weeks?' he asks.  
  
'Nope'.  
  
'Prepared as ever'.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs in answer.  
  
'I don't know how much you can prepare for what's coming'.  
  
It's a sombre thing to say in the dead of night, with only crickets for outside ambience. It makes Jiyong feel like they're stepping squarely into their own graves. Life ends in two weeks. Sayonara.  
  
'Have you spoken to your mother?' he asks.  
  
'No'.  
  
' _Will_ you?'  
  
'No'.  
  
He feels a swell of misery at the certainty in Seunghyun's voice.  
  
'What if she calls you the night before and pretends that nothing happened between you?'  
  
'I'm tired of pretending _nothing happened,'_ Seunghyun answers unemotionally. 'I'm too old and too tired to keep wasting time on that. As much as I want to forget about what happened and forgive it, as much as I want her to tell me it's going to be okay and that I'll be fine-- I want her to love me for the person I am. _That's_ more important. I can't always make concessions for her because it's easier in the short term. If I have to enlist without saying goodbye to her, so be it'.  
  
'You'll be okay with that?'  
  
'No, but I'll do it. I want her to respect me. I want to be allowed to live my own life and still have a mother at the end of it. I can't pretend that day didn't happen. I can't pretend she didn't say everything she said. I can't pretend she didn't look at you the way she did. I can't pretend she didn't hurt me. I can't,' he says, voice rising slightly. 'You think I don't miss her? You think I don't know I could end this with a phone call? I shouldn't _have_ to. I didn't do anything wrong. She should be the one to call. She should want to!'  
  
'But she _hasn't'._  
  
Seunghyun seems to shrink inwardly at this.  
  
'No. I thought she would by now'.  
  
He goes quiet for a while. His eyes lose focus and glaze over. His mind goes somewhere else. Eventually he comes back to himself and speaks again, in an unsteady voice.  
  
'This is what hurts. This is what eats away at me. She could end this with a few words but chooses not to. She knows a few words is all it would take. I would forgive her. She _knows._ Is her pride more important than our relationship? We won't ever talk again unless I swallow my own? Fuck! I'm sick of it!' Seunghyun scowls. 'Why do I have to be the one to do that? It's _always_ me. I always have to be the one---' he trails off and his final words go unsaid. Jiyong knows. He understands the anger.  
  
He aches from how palpable Seunghyun's pain is. The rift with his mother chips away at him, despite the brave act he has played out these past few weeks. Those insecurities, those thoughts he must sometimes think-- _doesn't she love me? Why isn't she trying to fix it?_  
  
Jiyong hates that he was there when it happened, that he saw the implosion in real time; that he was a part of it. He hates that he can't fix it. This isn't a romantic comedy. He can't knock on her door and confess his love for her son and beg her to accept him for who he is. He can't say that expected scathing remark if she says no, _'you don't know how lucky you are to have a son like that. You don't deserve him'._ He can't do it. That shit doesn't happen in the real world.  
  
He lays a hand on Seunghyun's thigh and squeezes.  
  
'I'm sorry things turned out this way'.  
  
'Me too'.  
  
A silence begins to grow between them, threatening to branch out and expand. Jiyong doesn't let it. He doesn't want their finite time to be spent in misery.  
  
'You'll see your sister though?' he asks.  
  
'Sure. I see her all the time'.  
  
'You do?'  
  
'Yeah,' Seunghyun answers, perturbed. 'She keeps inviting me over? It's suspicious but I like it. I like seeing Yeon-jun'.  
  
'You said you _hated_ kids once'.  
  
'No, only that I wasn't _good_ with them. I'm fine for the first ten minutes but I run out of material. I do a few gags, some tickling, I get on the floor but then what? Short bursts. I have a tiny gag bag'.  
  
'What the fuck does that mean?' Jiyong laughs.  
  
'I don't know,' Seunghyun answers. 'Yeon-Jun is different anyway, he's family. He's obligated to love me'.  
  
'Yeah--- plus you keep _buying_ him stuff so I think you're doing okay. Buying a child's love is very effective. I bet he loves his little kid-rolex'.  
  
'I didn't buy him a rolex'.  
  
Jiyong tuts, disbelieving, until Seunghyun raises his hands in deference.  
  
'Rolex don't _make_ watches for kids. I checked'.  
  
'Next, you'll tell me that little car you got him isn't a real certified BMW'.  
  
Seunghyun grimaces and sucks in a sharp breath.  
  
'Oh my,' Jiyong sighs dramatically, 'what a tangled web of lies you weave'.  
  
'I'm found out'.  
  
'Don't tell me---' Jiyong starts, raising his hand between them. He waggles his fingers so the chip-ring is the focus of their joint attention. 'Don't tell me this isn't a real diamond'.  
  
Seunghyun adopts a look of panic and plays along with the jest.  
  
'I can explain,' he fumbles.  
  
Jiyong's mouth draws open.  
  
'Does our love mean nothing to you? Our _chastity?'_  
  
Seunghyun takes Jiyong's hand in his own and quickly draws it to his lips. He bites the chip off and eats it.  
  
'No,' he answers, delivering Jiyong's hand safely back to him. 'Well the love part yes, the chastity part no'.  
  
Jiyong flicks imaginary hair over his shoulder.  
  
'I can't blame you,' he says, looking coyly out the window. 'I am--- _irresistible'._  
  
When he peeks back, Seunghyun gives him a look of such yearning and hunger, Jiyong actually blushes. He drops his gaze in his lap. The remains of their shared bag of chips sits crinkled between his knees. It crackles when he moves. It's not a sensual landscape to foster Seunghyun's intense gaze but Jiyong feels his eyes on him still.  
  
It was a mistake to sit alone in the dark together. It was a mistake to encourage Seunghyun's vulnerabilities because he _loves_ him and now he has that _urge_ \--- that perverse need to take care of him and make him feel better.  
  
He tries to change the subject.  
  
'Are you going to see your father?'  
  
Seunghyun bristles. He stares through the gap between the front seats, gazing into the blackness outside.  
  
'I doubt it'.  
  
He seems morose suddenly. It's not like when he talked about his mother. It's not like anything. It's just a feeling Jiyong has while looking at him. Despite fifteen years of knowing each other and nearly seven years of loving him, there are parts of Seunghyun he doesn't know at all. Even now with their new-found openness, they have secrets still. Not outright lies or purposeful omissions but _things_ floating between the lines, out there in the ether that can't be scrutinised.  
  
He can count on one hand all the times in his life Seunghyun has mentioned his father, even fewer the times he's dared to ask. When he first understood as a teenager that Seunghyun didn't have a perfect nuclear family _per se_ , that he spent his days and nights on the street to avoid going home, Jiyong implicitly understood some things were better left unsaid.  
  
He never thought Seunghyun was running away from something. The opposite maybe--- running from a lack of something. He stayed away to keep his heart hardened. If his father never came home and never said I love you, well that was easier to cope with on the street. Better out there than tucked in bed waiting for the car in the drive, waiting for the knock at the bedroom door that never comes, those craved for words, _I love you, Son_.  
  
Jiyong often thought about things like that when they were still just friends. He would drag Seunghyun to dinner at his own house over and over, as if his own Dad taking an interest in Seunghyun's day could make up for a lifetime of abandonment at home. Seunghyun stopped accepting the invitations eventually. He cottoned on but never made a fuss about it. He just started pulling out excuses and Jiyong stopped asking him over.  
  
He thinks about inviting Seunghyun to the pension with him, seriously this time, not making up for his family’s shortcomings this time, but out of practicality. There isn't enough time to see everyone he needs to before enlistment. It makes sense to try and combine some of that time and Seunghyun doesn't have plans. He has a shortfall of people to kiss and hug goodbye.  
  
'You never talk about your father'.  
  
'I don't really have one,' Seunghyun answers. 'Besides, that's a talk for another day. _Far_ into the future,' he emphasises. 'When I'm on my deathbed maybe, or we're at his funeral'.  
  
Jiyong smarts for a moment at this unthinking confession. We. We're at his funeral. Expectations for the future. He chooses to ignore the morbidity of it and reads into it what he wants. Seunghyun frowns.  
  
'Why are you looking at me like that?'  
  
Jiyong shakes off his stupor and shrugs, trying to cast off whatever dreamy or interrogative look must have fixed itself upon his face.  
  
'No reason'.  
  
Silence sprouts again, the seed of it planted in the seat between them. Jiyong fancies he can see it there, new buds transforming into bigger and longer silences. Seunghyun repositions his weight and drops his hand in that exact place.  
  
'I wanted to kiss you, but you kind of ruined the mood a little just now'.  
  
Jiyong smiles.  
  
The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. They stare at the same point through the window and think their separate thoughts. Jiyong thinks about something specific, about those words, _I want to kiss you_.  
  
He lets weeks of separation swell and boil in his brain until he daydreams about the two of them fucking in the car. He's never done that before, a blow-job sure but nothing else. He measures the back-seat with his eyes, noticing what little room Seunghyun has to move. His knees are turned outwards.  
  
Seunghyun's apartment is empty and they could have gone there but this close to being free, he couldn't risk it. He thought Hyeong-bae would find him somehow. He would _know_. He would hammer on the door and drag him out by his hair. Crazy, all of it. If Hyeong-bae could find him there, he can certainly find him here. He could tap on the window like an old horror movie killer with a hook for a hand.  
  
Seunghyun shifts and turns beside him. He looks like an approachable boss or teacher trying to ingratiate himself with his subordinates.  
  
'I love you'.  
  
Jiyong is stunned.  
  
'I _love_ you,' Seunghyun says again.  
  
'I heard you'.  
  
'Good'.  
  
'Why are you telling me?' Jiyong asks. 'Are you sick?'  
  
'I just wanted to tell you. I don't think I say it as often as you say it to me'.  
  
'I guess I just love you more than you do me'.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and stiffens.  
  
'I was just kidding,' Jiyong ventures.  
  
'I know'.  
  
Seunghyun's frown doesn't disappear though. Jiyong doesn't know what he can say to fix it because he doesn't understand it. It _is_ getting late, maybe they should call it quits for the night. He brought up Seunghyun's mother and father and upset him. Now he's made a joke that missed the mark entirely. A real winning streak.  
  
'It's late,' he says. 'Maybe we should go'.  
  
'No. I want to stay a while longer'.  
  
So, Jiyong acquiesces. He slouches in his seat and waits in silence for Seunghyun to speak or get bored or become restless. He catches him staring once or twice but never at his face. The first time Seunghyun seems to be looking somewhere behind him, the second time at his middle. It makes him feel self-conscious. He pulls his jacket tighter and tries to while away time thinking about silly things. He fidgets. Every time he moves, the chip packet in his lap crackles loudly, until he shoves it in the door pocket to be rid of it.  
  
It's when he's doing this that Seunghyun finally speaks.  
  
'There's nothing I wouldn't do for you,' he says quietly. 'I should have said that a long time ago but I took it for granted. I thought you knew'.  
  
'What?'   
  
Seunghyun explains himself, hardly taking a breath. A dam breaks somewhere and words come spilling out in a torrent.  
  
'I would do _anything_ you asked of me,' Seunghyun says. 'I would do _anything._ I would. I am amazed every day by you. Do you know that? You are the strongest person I know and all the good things I want to be. I should tell you that every day but I don't. I have had _years_ to say that and I never have. _Years!_ Almost seven if you count the year we were apart and those months that followed and I do--' Seunghyun says, speaking of their accumulated years, 'because even when we weren't together physically, we were in my head and in here,' he says, tapping his chest. 'When I needed you, I could see you in the room. When I needed to talk, you answered, whether you were actually there or not. I _count_ that time'.  
  
Seunghyun's expression and tone are pleading, like this is an appeal, for what--- Jiyong doesn't know. It makes him uneasy, even if what Seunghyun is saying appeals to him and mirrors his own feelings. He counted that time too. When Seunghyun first appeared to him in the studio however many months ago, Jiyong felt that invisible chain that still held them together. It was tugged on and doors closed on it and he tried to bury it but it was always there. He doesn't think of their unconventional relationship as five years, plus a break and then a few months back together. It's just seven years. All that time was _counted,_ whether it's moral or right to think of it that way or not.   
  
'What is this?' Jiyong asks. 'What are you doing?'  
  
'Talking,' Seunghyun answers, 'So _let_ me'.  
  
'No'.  
  
'No?'  
  
'No,' Jiyong shrugs, his stomach twisting into knots. 'I'm not in the mood for this'.  
  
Seunghyun is lost for words.  
  
Jiyong shrinks at the stunned look on his face. It's like he's been shaken up like a champagne bottle for years, and now all these things he has wanted to say, that have been building up inside him are finally loosed and freed, but the cork has been shoved back in prematurely. Stymied.  
  
'You're not _in the mood_ to hear what I have to say?'  
  
'No. What _was_ all that?'  
  
'Just stuff!' Seunghyun answers heatedly. 'Things I've wanted to say for a long time. I thought you might want to hear it. At the very least, I thought you would let me _say_ it'.  
  
Seunghyun slumps, frustrated. His hand clenches into a fist against his thigh and his breaths come out hard through his nose. He stares out the window on his side. Jiyong can see his peeved reflection in the glass.  
  
He knew what Seunghyun was about to say. He could see it in his face and it was obvious besides. All those assurances John Lee gave were true. He knows that. Things have changed. Despite the mess in his personal life and Seunghyun's private obstacles, they have been on a prolonged honeymoon for months now. He recognises the feelings Seunghyun wanted to share. They're the same ones he had when they first started dating years ago. It builds up. You have to let those feelings out.  
  
Only, Seunghyun _can't_ let them out. Not right now. If he sits here in the dark and says beautiful things or starts reminiscing about the good times, Jiyong will fall apart. He won't be able to go home and wait out these last few days with Hyeong-bae. He won't be able to step foot in that apartment again without tearing out his hair. He will look at Hyeong-bae and his last stores of resolve will disappear.  
  
'Let's go, I guess. I can't talk to you,' Seunghyun says miserably. 'I'll take you back to your car'.  
  
He opens the door an inch and starts sliding out, but Jiyong grabs his arm and pulls him back. The door softly closes again.  
  
'Seunghyun--'  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'Tell me all that stuff in three days, okay?'  
  
'Why? What's happening in three days that you can't listen to me now?'  
  
Jiyong slumps, at a loss for how to explain.  
  
'There are things I have to do this week that will be harder to put up with if I hear a big, beautiful speech from you, okay? If I let you talk and say all this stuff I want to hear, I'll never go home'.  
  
Seunghyun looks frustrated even more than before.  
  
'So what?'  
  
'I'm sorry. I can't explain right now'.  
  
When Seunghyun speaks, after a lengthy pause, his voice is calm and measured.   
  
_'_ You know the general vibe of what I was going to tell you is that you can _talk_ to me. I'm here for you,' he says. 'Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. If you have a problem, I want you to come to me. If you need to _talk_ , I want you to come to me. That's what I wanted to say. Are you capable of doing that? _Talking_ to me?'  
  
Seunghyun looks deadly serious, as if everything hinges on the answer to this question. Jiyong knows the one he's about to give is the wrong one. He knows John Lee was annoyingly right when he said Seunghyun deserves the truth and openness and he is going to _do_ all that, just not for three more days.  
  
'I know I can talk to you. You don't need to remind me'.  
  
Seunghyun's jaw tightens for a moment and he wavers on the line between anger and calm before falling on the latter.   
  
'If you say so,' he answers. 'What's going on then? Why can't I tell you I love you? What happens in three days?'  
  
'I'll be free'.  
  
'Free of _what?'_  
  
'Stuff,' Jiyong stresses. 'In three days I'll---,' he stops trying to explain because he can't. In three days whether good or bad, he'll be free from Hyeong-bae and the looming threat of exposure. He will escape his fate by playing on Hyeong-bae's guilt or he won't succeed and he'll face the consequences. He'll _choose_ that. Either way, it will be done with.  
  
'I can't talk about it, okay? If you love me you'll give me three measly days and you won't recite any loving speeches between now and then'.  
  
'Honestly, I don't think that will be a problem'.  
  
Jiyong feels a pang in his heart at this. He watches helplessly as Seunghyun slides out of the back-seat and resumes his place in the front, behind the wheel. He starts the car and waits. Jiyong can't move. He knows he should but he can't. He is so tired and worn down. His nerves are frayed. Seunghyun is the last sure thing he has. The one good constant when he looks at all his possible bleak futures.  
  
_Three more days._  
  
He shouldn't have come here at all but Seunghyun sounded so eager on the phone and he couldn't not. Maybe he _should_ confess; illuminate the blade hanging over his head. Get it over and done with.  
  
'Get in the front'.  
  
Maybe it's stupid to wait but these three days are what he has pinned his hopes on. They are holding him together. It will take all three to prepare himself for the worst case scenario. These remaining days have to bolster him against that final conversation; ' _Do it. Release the videos. Just get out,_ ' and what comes after.  
  
He can't tell Seunghyun everything now because he didn't plan it that way. He isn't ready. He is going to do it _later._ That's what he _decided_. If he tells Seunghyun the truth now, he'll fall apart. He will cry his eyes out at what a mess he's made of everything. Seunghyun will look at him a certain way. It will make it _impossible_ for him to do what he needs to do.  
  
'Don't be mad at me'.  
  
'I'm not angry with you. Please get in the front'.  
  
Jiyong stares at Seunghyun's reflection in the windscreen, at his hard jaw and furrowed brow. He's angry about something, that's for sure.  
  
'You are'.  
  
Seunghyun turns around.  
  
'I'm angry that you won't talk to me. I'm annoyed, yes. Angry in general. Get in the front seat'.  
  
'Not until we make peace'.  
  
'Are you going to _talk_ to me?' Seunghyun asks.  
  
'Not tonight'.  
  
'Then I don't think we'll make up tonight! Do you want to sleep here?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'So move!'  
  
Jiyong resists saying, _'You can drive while I'm in the back-seat!'_ Instead, he wisely makes a pleading attempt to minimise the damage.  
  
'I'm _sorry_ I shut you up while you were trying to share something with me. That was rude and inconsiderate. I appreciate what you were saying though; what you _did_ say. I count all that time too, you know. I think we've been together seven years. That's how I think about it in hindsight'.  
  
'So what?'  
  
'So I'm sorry that I upset you. I have some stuff going on and I can't talk about it right now but in three days I'll tell you _everything,_ I swear to God'.  
  
Seunghyun sighs but softens a little.  
  
'Whatever. Fine'.  
  
'Are you still mad?'  
  
'Yes,' Seunghyun answers. 'I can't stop being mad because you tell me to!'  
  
Jiyong sighs and vacates the back seat. He hears a quiet, _'finally,'_ from inside and walks to the front passenger side door and keeps walking. He skirts the front of the car until he's at Seunghyun's door. He opens it, ignoring Seunghyun's surprise, leans in to undo his seatbelt then crouches down on his heels in front of him. He tugs on Seunghyun's legs until he swings them around, his feet crunching in the gravel outside.  
  
'What are you _doing?'_  
  
Jiyong wraps both arms around Seunghyun's legs in answer and rests his chin on his knees. He looks up through his lashes and tries his hardest to look persuasive. He plays on Seunghyun's weaknesses.  
  
'Don't be mad at me'.  
  
Seunghyun is looking frantically around, feeling exposed by the open door and this little grovelling display.  
  
'Someone will _see_ us'.  
  
'There's no-one around,' Jiyong answers. 'There's just woods and through that, the river. Unless a mermaid decides to take a hike, we'll be fine'.  
  
Seunghyun finally looks down and his brows knit in frustration at what he finds clinging to him like a shivering limpet. Jiyong pulls out all the stops. He works his most irresistible faces.  
  
'Please get up'.  
  
'Are you still mad?'  
  
'Did you think this cutesy little manoeuvre would erase all my anger?'  
  
'Has it?'  
  
Seunghyun exhales sharply through his nose.  
  
'A _little'._  
  
Jiyong grins despite himself, at the tone in Seunghyun's voice. He is so easy to manipulate and he knows it. When Jiyong smiles, Seunghyun looks away quickly but he succumbs. He smiles too.  
  
_'_ Fuck off'.  
  
'You're so easy,' Jiyong answers, rubbing the backs of Seunghyun's legs, who is trying _very_ hard to ignore him.  
  
'Get in the car!'  
  
A breeze sweeps through the back of Jiyong's hair and makes its way beneath his clothes. His teeth chatter for a moment and his body shakes. He redistributes his weight and leaves crunch beneath his feet. The car is still running.  
  
'Why were you so desperate to see me tonight?' he asks.  
  
'Because I missed you,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'What did you want us to do?'  
  
'I don't know, talk?'  
  
'We could have done that over the phone. Why did you want to see me in person?'  
  
'Talking is _better_ in person'.  
  
'Sure, but that's not why. You were disappointed when we came here. You wanted me to go to your house. Why?'  
  
'Heating? Comfort?'  
  
_'And?'_  
  
Seunghyun rolls his eyes. He tries hard to ignore the grown man attached to his lower half. He holds out for a good long minute before giving in. He is holding something back though--- hesitant to tell the truth. Eventually, his attitude shifts, like a switch coming on.  
  
'Alright,' he admits, through his teeth. 'I know we can't have sex but I hoped we could make-out a little. Some over the clothes stuff perhaps'.  
  
Jiyong laughs silently.  
  
'Don't laugh. Don't make me feel like a horny teenager,' Seunghyun chides. 'You ruined it anyway with your bullshit'.  
  
'I'm sorry'.  
  
Jiyong rests his chin back on Seunghyun's knees. 'I didn't go to your apartment on purpose,' he confesses. 'I knew if I did, we would end up fucking. I wanted to'.  
  
Seunghyun grimaces, pained, like a man who has abstained for too long already. He makes a sad little sound and Jiyong mirrors it inside. He needs to fuck. Not just to get off--- but to _share_ something. He needs that intimacy. Those minutes where everything else goes away but the pleasure. He wants everything else to go away.  
  
'Turn the engine off'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'We can still make out a little,' Jiyong answers. 'I have time'.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates, thinking better of it, but he turns the key. When Jiyong stands, his knees crack and he has to shake out the beginnings of a cramp. When he ducks his head into the car, just enough to meet Seunghyun's lips, he feels the way they melt into one another. Seunghyun gives himself over to the kiss and Jiyong feels how much _he_ needs this too; that same intimacy.  
  
Though it hurts to bend forward so far, Jiyong makes sure their kisses are slow and savouring. Their wantonness surprises him. Need comes in waves, buoying him up, only to slacken so he can take a breath, then it swells again. It beats inside the walls of his brain. It warms him up until he barely feels the biting cold at his back.  
  
They kiss and its fucking _nice_. His stomach tightens at their proximity. His heart pounds in his chest from excitement and the knowledge of a thousand other kisses just like this one leading to something more.  
  
\--- But his back aches and _aches_ some more until he can't take it anymore, not even to prolong a kiss. He pulls back, breathing heavy and drops back to the ground, crouching outside the car. The open door protects him from some of the wind, but not all. It whistles in his ears with the din of crickets in the underbrush and the faint white noise of the water on the other side of the trees. He hears traffic in the distance.  
  
Seunghyun's lips are pink and his eyes expectant, not wanting this to end; this thing they have both _needed_ for weeks and weeks. They have so little time left together. How many chances will they have to _be_ together between now and enlistment? How many spontaneous moments where they both _need_ each other at the same time? Because Jiyong needs Seunghyun now. He needs everything to go away. He needs them to be in synch. He _needs_ it. The suddenness surprises him. He has been keeping all those feelings at bay but the kiss has undone him.  
  
He latches his fingers into Seunghyun's pockets and _pulls_. He drags Seunghyun right to the very edge of the seat, his feet land further outside the car. Jiyong rests his own knees on the bottom frame of the door, just below the seat--- and undoes the top button of Seunghyun's trousers.  
  
_'Whoa---'_  
  
And then the second and the last button.  
  
Seunghyun grabs his wrist to stop him.  
  
'What are you _doing?'_  
  
'No-one can see us', he answers. 'It's fine! If someone drives up, we'll see the headlights before they get here. We have plenty of warning'.  
  
'Someone could _walk_ up'.  
  
'From where? The woods? At this hour? Someone's going to crawl out of the river, walk through these woods and exit right where I'm sucking your dick?'  
  
Seunghyun flushes at the mere suggestion. Jiyong sees that fight in his brain between right and wrong, that risk assessment taking place. So he cajoles and coos and whispers platitudes and reassurances, enough to distract Seunghyun long enough to slip his hand between his open fly and drag his briefs down low enough to get his dick out.   
  
Seunghyun smarts at the cold air but he is half-hard already and Jiyong has won the fight before its even begun. He strokes him a few times but the angle is wrong and his fingers are cold, so he pushes Seunghyun's chest to make him lean back a little and he dives in.  
  
He keeps his fingers tucked below the waistband of Seunghyun's trousers to keep the material out of the way and takes his hardening cock in his mouth. At the very first touch, Seunghyun shivers and a sound escapes him. His thighs tense. Everything tenses. Jiyong knows right away how little it will take to make him cum--- if he really tried, this could go lightning fast. One minute max and Seunghyun would be _finished._ But Jiyong doesn't want to do it like that. He needs to be quick to lessen the chances of their being caught but he can stretch it out a _little_ longer than that.  
  
He flicks his tongue across the head and sucks on it gently. Seunghyun twitches and lets out a long, low sigh. Jiyong teases him like this, with little licks and shallow sucks until he feels Seunghyun move into his touch. He mouths wet and hot against the underside of Seunghyun's cock before blowing him, cheeks hollowing out as he bobs in shallow, quick motions.   
  
He _tastes_ him too. Bitter, warm and heavy. The heady familiarity is intoxicating. His stress is eking out second by second. They haven't done this for a long time. Fucked yes, blown no. Not for _months_ and he has wanted it, _craved_ it the entire time. There is something animal and possessive about Seunghyun when he's having his dick sucked. He takes more than he gives. Jiyong likes that. He _likes_ watching Seunghyun's self control slowly unravel as he tries to keep quiet, and he's doing that now. With each suck and swallow, Seunghyun's breaths come out sharp and fast. Having the door open makes this exciting. Jiyong feels the breeze still at his back-- heat at his front and in his mouth and throat.  
  
He can't believe Seunghyun is letting this happen at all. Careful, conscientious Seunghyun. He thought he would put up more of a fight.  
  
He is only a little surprised when Seunghyun takes a fistful of his hair. Fingers flex on his scalp and guide him down further, gently enough that he can stop what's happening but firm all the same. In control. Seunghyun's cock touches the back of his throat and Jiyong almost gags but he stops himself. The fingers loosen in his hair but he doesn't need them to. He lets Seunghyun slip out of his mouth and pulls back.  
  
'You can do it if you want,' he reassures him. 'I like it'.  
  
Seunghyun _knows_ what that means. His eyelids flutter at this given permission. He tightens his grip in Jiyong's hair and takes charge the way he likes sometimes; when he _really_ needs it-- like tonight. Jiyong can't do much but keep his teeth out of the way and let his mouth be fucked in shallow thrusts. It's hard because of their position but Seunghyun manages and Jiyong swallows when he needs to, breathes when he needs to. They figure it out.  
  
He gets lost in it a bit; in the feeling of being used but in a _nice_ way. In a way that makes Seunghyun feel good; that takes all the responsibility and decision making out of his hands. Seunghyun's thumb brushes across his forehead and Jiyong melts at the unconscious touch. He is so focussed on that and making Seunghyun feel good, on making this worth the wait, worth the restrictions and limitations he has brought on their relationship because of Hyeong-bae and _right and wrong._ He almost misses how close Seunghyun is. Only when he tastes him does he realise how close he is to cumming. Then Jiyong comes back to himself. He hears Seunghyun cursing under his breath, a little stream of swears.  
  
He lays his palm over Seunghyun's hand in his hair and Seunghyun releases him immediately. Jiyong pulls back, swallows, wipes his mouth-- he takes note of the pent-up desperation in Seunghyun's face asking _why did you stop me?_  
  
And Jiyong asks himself too because why did he? He stares at Seunghyun's chest, at the rise and fall beneath his shirt. He is out of breath. Jiyong can almost hear his heart beating through his skin. Seunghyun looks so needy, teetering on the edge. Jiyong _wants_ to make him cum, he wants to wrap his mouth around that cock again and swallow---  
  
But he wants more than that. It's not _enough._ He wants something they can't have, can't _do---_ something that Seunghyun would never agree to in a million years but he doesn't know how to go home without it. For every bit of Seunghyun's eagerness and desperation and wanton need, Jiyong has his own tenfold. Seunghyun eyes him searchingly for the reason he stopped and Jiyong tells him in a hushed tone, with no expectation for what can happen when he does.  
  
'I want to fuck,' he whispers. 'I _need_ to fuck. But I know we can't because we're in a god damn car in the middle of nowhere--'  
  
'Okay,' Seunghyun answers heavily, breaths coming hard and fast. 'Let’s fuck'. He tucks his dick back into his briefs, grimacing at how overstimulated he is.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'I have stuff in the car. If you want to fuck, let’s do it'.  
  
'Seunghyun,' Jiyong ventures quietly, 'I want to fuck _you'._  
  
He thinks that will dampen the enthusiasm because Seunghyun having to take his pants _off_ in a car on the side of the road seems so far removed from the realm of possibility, Jiyong can't even fathom it. It takes time for him to process Seunghyun's answer.  
  
'Okay! Fine! Let's do it!'  
  
'What?'  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and drags a shaking hand through his hair. He is trying to calm himself down. He is trying to step off that ledge.  
  
'Fuck me,' Seunghyun answers. 'I don't want to sound dramatic but if we don't fuck tonight, I think I might die. Okay? Not _one_ car has gone by in twenty minutes. I think we'll be fine. Like you said earlier, we'll have enough warning if someone pulls up'.  
  
'Are you crazy? How can we? You barely fit in the back-seat!'  
  
'We'll _manage,'_ Seunghyun says persuasively. 'We'll push the seats forward. I'm very flexible now. You know that. Let's put it to use'.  
  
Jiyong's jaw drops in sheer surprise. It takes Seunghyun pulling him up by the armpits and stepping out of the car for Jiyong to regain some sense. Yes? He said _yes?_ He wants to fuck in the car? Now? On the side of the road? Seunghyun nudges him to lean against the side of the car and kisses him briefly. Jiyong is still so shocked, he barely kisses back.  
  
'I am a little sad that I don't get to fuck _you,'_ Seunghyun confesses. 'I know getting fucked in public was on your bucket list'.  
  
'What? How do you know that?'  
  
'Because you wrote an actual list a few years ago and left it on your desk. There was some boring stuff about skydiving and winning an award I've never heard of but getting fucked outside was in the top ten. I spent a long time trying to think up ways to make that happen. Unsuccessfully'.  
  
Seunghyun gently turns Jiyong around so he's facing the other way and pushes him into the passenger side door, pressing his clothed erection against his ass. Jiyong plants his palms on the roof of the car and grimaces.  
  
Seunghyun whispers into his ear from behind.  
  
'You don't want me to fuck you against this car? Like this? Close your eyes. Imagine it'.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his hips, mimics the way they fuck on slow nights. Jiyong bites his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He _does_ want it. He can't pretend he doesn't. The crickets are almost deafening and there's something tantalising about the cold air on his heated skin. It's all forbidden and enticing.  
  
_'Fuck'._  
  
'You want to feel the cold air on your skin?'  
  
Jiyong elbows him gently.  
  
'Don't tempt me'.  
  
'Open your eyes'.  
  
Jiyong opens them and stares at the trees in front of him, towards all that separates them from the dirt road that leads off the main. Once someone pulls off that, it takes only thirty seconds to get to this gravelly open space they're occupying.  
  
'Stare straight ahead,' Seunghyun says quietly, 'and listen to the traffic in the distance. Think about the risk. Someone could pull in here any second'.  
  
'I _know,_ ' Jiyong answers-- his words are strangled at the end. Seunghyun yanks his sweatpants down and the cold air hits his bare ass. Fuck, if it isn't _every_ bit as strange and nice as he imagined. He does think about the risk. He thinks about Seunghyun fucking him just like this and the chill night air and that sound of cars in the distance makes him hot. It adds to the excitement and he _hates_ that but it does. He almost gives in to that desire, to that want of _feeling_ but he wants what he wants.  
  
'No. I want to fuck you'.  
  
'Okay'.  
  
Seunghyun moves for a minute. He leaves Jiyong standing there with his ass hanging out while he disappears into the driver’s side and rummages through the centre console. Jiyong pulls his pants back up embarrassed but is chided for it when Seunghyun re-emerges. He is put back where he was and Seunghyun tugs his sweats right back down.  
  
'We'll do it your way but you have to give me _one_ minute to imagine'.  
  
'Imagine what?'  
  
'What it would be like to fuck you like this, right here'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes flutter closed and his fingers curl on the roof. He hears the little snap of a bottle opening, lube probably-- though he can't imagine why it's being opened _now_. Unless Seunghyun plans on jerking off to the view of his bare ass in nature.  
  
He doesn't wait long to find out. He hears the rustle of fabric, the unmistakeable sound of lube doing its job, then Seunghyun taps his outer thigh, to nudge his legs closer together. Jiyong obliges.  
  
'What are you doi— _oh my God'._  
  
He forgets to be quiet at the last and his words almost echo in the empty rest-stop. Seunghyun clamps a hand over his mouth from behind and shushes him. Jiyong's eyes clench shut at the feeling; it's cold and strange and he wants to shudder but at the same time it's kind of _nice?_  
  
Seunghyun releases his mouth and Jiyong lets him fuck into that tight space between his legs. Seunghyun's slick cock pushes between his thighs and Jiyong does shudder but not because it's weird or alien to him. There's something about the slide and pull and the way Seunghyun's body meets his as if they're fucking for real. Jiyong couldn't stop this if a lost hiker stumbled out in front of them. The simulation of sex is almost as good as the real thing. Seunghyun's heavy breaths are in his ear and on the back of his neck and Jiyong checks that item off his bucket list. Close enough. He stares at that dirt road in the distance and focusses on the slick warmth between his legs and the way his cock is straining against the palm he slid between himself and the dirty car.  
  
'Fuck this is really weird,' he gasps.  
  
'Bad weird?'  
  
'No,' Jiyong whispers. 'I don't know why I like it but I do. Put your hand over my mouth again'.  
  
Seunghyun does what he asks and Jiyong lets his eyes close and his head fall back. The hand really does him in. It makes this seem like a real forbidden fuck--- with real consequences if he dares to make a sound. It isn't far off from the truth. He just enjoys the spontaneous frisson and lets Seunghyun have his fun until he has to be reminded there is more to come (brief or not).   
  
They kiss again briefly before Jiyong pulls his pants back up, ignoring the wet between his thighs. He closes the driver’s side door and opens the back-seat, nudging Seunghyun inside who obeys willingly.  
  
'Get the blanket out of the boot'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'So my ass doesn't stick to the leather seat and I don't have to clean up'.  
  
Jiyong concedes to this one request and a moment later, throws the picnic blanket in question at Seunghyun's face, who does his best to lay it over their limited space. They push the front seats forward as far as they'll go so have a touch more room (though really, it's not enough).  
  
Seunghyun pulls off his cardigan and drapes it over the window behind him and Jiyong laughs but does the same with the front seat beside it. The way they've parked, the windows on Seunghyun's side are facing the dirt road. Through their thin makeshift curtains, they'll be able to see headlights approaching and gain a few extra moments to untangle.   
  
Finally, Jiyong sits back against his closed door.  
  
'Are you sure you want to do this? Here? In _public?'_  
  
Seunghyun kicks his shoes off, dropping them on the centre console. His socks follow (these end up on the dashboard) and then he starts shimmying out of his pants.  
  
'Jiyong, if we're not fucking in the next two minutes, I'm going to scream like a little baby. Take your pants off'.  
  
Jiyong laughs at this new Seunghyun, undone by horniness. He is almost a different person but all the component pieces of him are still there; though he hasn't been this free and open and willing for a long time. Maybe it's just recklessness, something Jiyong should discourage, but he can't. He needs this. He needs to feel something overwhelming and powerful and real, just for a while. Sex with Seunghyun has always been that. Here with the added risk, it _has_ to scratch that itch; it has to do for him whatever he thinks it will fix and make better.  
  
So he does it. He throws caution to the wind and he risks everything. Seunghyun risks everything. They make the stupid choice together, blindly choosing to believe it will turn out alright.  
  
Jiyong has to believe it will when they kiss. They keep their shirts on but manage to get their pants off in the cramped confines of the back-seat. Jiyong feels more exposed inside with bare legs than he did outside with only his ass hanging out. Seunghyun confesses he feels the same but doesn't care enough to stop.   
  
Seunghyun kisses like he has spent a dozen years in isolation and finally sought human company again. It's desperate and base and savage in its intensity and neediness.  
  
Jiyong can't remember when Seunghyun was ever like this before, ever so desperate for physical touch but he obliges him. He wants to. He wants him to feel _good._ He wants whatever is driving him to _take_ this risk to fade away. Seunghyun grabs the back of his neck and Jiyong winces. His neck has bruised. It hurts in the places Hyeong-bae dug his fingers.  
  
'Did I hurt you? Are you okay?'  
  
Jiyong kisses Seunghyun to silence him and lies.  
  
'No. Your hand is cold'.  
  
He yanks on Seunghyun's collar to distract him and stretches it for access. He plants little kisses and nips in the crook between Seunghyun's neck and shoulder. He bites into the soft skin hard enough to leave a mark.  
  
'Get on your knees,' he whispers. 'On your hands or elbows. Whatever you can manage'.  
  
Seunghyun catches his lips briefly for one last kiss and obliges, unselfconscious. Jiyong moves back to give him room and enjoys the view of him from behind. He's always had a nice ass but all the recent exercise has had its results. It has been a long time since he saw Seunghyun like this. It has been _years_ since they've done this. He used to fuck Seunghyun a lot but in those last few months before he disappeared, Seunghyun never wanted to. He wanted to fuck only in particular ways. Jiyong realises now that they were ways in which he could distance himself, or hide maybe, what was happening to him. That makes this all the better. That he wants to do this again, that he feels well enough, that he actively _wants_ it. Even if they are in a fucking car.  
  
Jiyong spares a moment to run his hand up Seunghyun's back, beneath his shirt. He pushes it up around his armpits so he can get the full picture and kisses the small of his back, that little knot of his tail-bone. Seunghyun smells nice.  
  
'You showered right before you left home'.  
  
'I told you, I had high expectations,' Seunghyun answers.  
  
'Of this?'  
  
'You did tell me not long ago that you wanted this. I was being conscientious'.  
  
'I did say that. Do _you_ want this?'  
  
'Does this position I'm in not answer the question?'  
  
'I want you say it'.  
  
Jiyong smiles though Seunghyun can't see it. It is fun to torture him. Seunghyun groans, not from irritation but desperation. He is so eager to fuck, he would say or do anything to get there faster.  
  
‘Please fuck me’.  
  
'Alright'.  
  
Jiyong finds the lube and squirts a little frigid line down Seunghyun's ass, right on the money. He smarts in surprise and flinches at the cold but when Jiyong's finger finds it mark, he drops his head and a little breath escapes him.  
  
'Relax'.  
  
Propped on his elbows with his ass in the air, Jiyong has the perfect view of Seunghyun, the perfect access. Even in the limited space available, they make it work. Jiyong sinks his middle finger in, down to the second joint and for a moment their breathing synchs up, a shaky exhale. Seunghyun relaxes in an instant. He opens up immediately. Jiyong can't tell if that's because he's _just that horny_ or if he sometimes has some fun alone. He decides not to torture him any more by asking. He just goes to work.  
  
He slides his finger as deep as it will go and opens him up slowly, curling his finger on the way out before adding a second. He goes deep and slow, then deep and fast. He scissors his fingers and crooks them in that special way that makes Seunghyun shudder every time. He works fast but makes sure it's _enough_. He makes sure Seunghyun likes every second of it and those little breathy sounds reassure him.  
  
Seunghyun is so tight and warm. He almost forgot what it was like. The first time he fingered Seunghyun, he recited the full lyrics to one of his songs trying to relax. The second time, he forwent recitation and made a few small sounds. By the third time, he was giving directions and fisting his hands in the blankets.  
  
They have no time for that kind of prolonged exploration now, so when Seunghyun is ready, Jiyong reluctantly stops. He withdraws his fingers, relishing that little huff of disappointment that follows. He gives Seunghyun a playful slap on the ass though and searches the floor for the condom he saw earlier.  
  
It isn't until he tears the packet open that his heart really starts to pound, that his fingers start to shake. He isn't nervous exactly, but at the same time maybe? It has been _so_ long and he wants this so badly. He wants to feel this again. He wants to have a modicum of control. He wants someone to yield to him. To trust him.  
  
Because of his shaking fingers, it takes longer than it should to get the condom on and he flushes from embarrassment. Seunghyun drops his head lower in anticipation and they try to figure out their positions. A leg moves here, an arm there. With a few nudges and taps, they figure it out.  
  
'Are you ready?'  
  
'Yeah'.  
  
Jiyong exhales slowly to calm himself down and closes that minute space between them. He holds Seunghyun's hip and positions himself.  
  
_'Relax'._  
  
Seunghyun exhales quietly and Jiyong pushes forward, _in_ \-- he sinks into Seunghyun slowly, enveloped by that tight, warm heat and they both hold their breaths for those long seconds it takes to stop and pull back and push in again until he's fully seated. It's one thing to get fucked, this is something else. A different kind of pleasure.  
  
Seunghyun breathes again, a heavy grateful kind of breath.  
  
_'Fuck'._  
  
'Is this okay?'  
  
'God, yes. Just give me a second---'.  
  
Jiyong waits. He makes little movements to coax him, to relax him, to ease him into it until he's ready. It doesn't take long. Seunghyun reaches back for him as if he's a blanket to be drawn over himself and begs him to _move._ Jiyong does. He moves. He fucks Seunghyun slow but deep, relishing the _feel_ of him inside. Warmth radiates through every inch of his body. Sensations build. It sparks that tingle in his stomach and groin.  
  
The world narrows the way it does when they are together. It doesn't matter who fucks who, that unconscious feeling that they fit together is realised both ways. Seunghyun groans quietly and pushes back into him and Jiyong takes his cues. He snaps his hips forward and Seunghyun curses under his breath. He likes that. He _likes_ it so Jiyong fucks him harder. It's a feat in their cramped space-- his head is bent, touching the roof and his left leg is at a strange angle but he would put up with those little pains for a thousand years to stay where he is.  
  
He fucks Seunghyun and it's fantastic. All those other things go away, each nagging fear and anxiety, every dull ache, all the foreboding. There is nothing. Just Seunghyun. Just the base, physical pleasure of fucking him and the satisfaction of hearing the sounds he makes.  
  
Seunghyun pushes back into every thrust and with each one curses under his breath. He is trying to be quiet and Jiyong understands why. It's important to stay quiet, even here in the middle of nowhere. It is _possible_ for someone to pass by on foot. Still-- he wants Seunghyun to make sounds that he _can't_ keep quiet.  
  
So, Jiyong harks back to years of knowledge and he puts to work every bit. He does every little thing he is capable of doing in a car, every little thing he remembers Seunghyun likes. He knows that exact place inside him that makes him weak and he searches assiduously until he finds it. When he does, Seunghyun wobbles a bit. His elbows lose their place and he slips.  
  
Jiyong fucks into that one spot again and again. He feels Seunghyun unravel beneath him, around him, in front of him. He works at him, fucks him; almost like a subtle knead in a sore back, as if massaging a knot out of some deep place. He fucks him until he gets the reaction he wants and he does soon enough.  
  
Seunghyun's forehead hits the seat and his whole body shakes.  
  
' _Please'._  
  
'Please _what?'_  
  
'Fuck, I don't know. Fuck. _Fuck--'_  
  
Seunghyun's voice trails off, becomes a long stream of low gibberish like he is being slowly tortured. He swears endlessly, the way he only does while getting fucked. Jiyong's heart pounds. It almost hurts. He realises every muscle in his body is coiled and taut and it's taking its toll. Slow aches make their way through him. He notices the windows on his side of the car are fogging up.  
  
'Fuck, I didn't know that actually happened'.  
  
_'What?'_  
  
'The windows are all fogged up, like in _Titanic'._  
  
Seunghyun mutters a quiet obscenity and Jiyong takes his chance. He leans forward and plants a palm on the glass, dragging it down. He laughs at himself and Seunghyun notices the jest. He slaps Jiyong's hand from his waist and mutters to _get off me._  
  
With regret Jiyong pulls out and Seunghyun manoeuvres (in a genuinely impressive display of flexibility) so he is flat on his back. He pulls Jiyong down over him like a blanket and they figure out a new position. Seunghyun has one leg on the centre console, the other bent on the seat. Jiyong has to mirror this in reverse but they make it work.  
  
'Do it like this,' Seunghyun says. 'No distractions'.  
  
'I _had_ to do the hand-print'.  
  
'We're _busy!'_  
  
Jiyong pushes one of Seunghyun's thighs back and lines himself up. Seunghyun helps guide him inside. It's a worse angle but it _feels_ better. Having Seunghyun's legs around him and his face beneath him makes an impossible difference.  
  
'You would have done it too,' Jiyong answers, leaning down to kiss him.  
  
He keeps his hands on the seat either side of Seunghyun's head and takes in every little change in his face. Every grimace, every curl of the lip, every flutter of the eyelids. The little catches and inconsistencies light fires in him but he's getting tired. It has only been a few minutes-- ten at most but there is no freedom to move. It hurts in small ways.  
  
He lays down over Seunghyun, so they are almost stomach to stomach but for his shirt and he fucks him slowly, like they have all the time in the world, because he needs a minute to breathe. He takes the chance to drag his nose down the length of Seunghyun's neck. He smells nice. In the quiet he hears his own breaths bouncing off Seunghyun's skin.  
  
'I love that,' Seunghyun whispers.  
  
'Love what?'  
  
_'Hearing_ you'.  
  
Jiyong pulls back a little. That answer is unexpected. He tucks some of Seunghyun's unruly hair behind his ear and then does it to himself, his limp hair falling between them like a veil.  
  
'What do you mean? Why?'  
  
Seunghyun meets his gaze and answers. He uses this time to run his fingers up the back of Jiyong's shirt.  
  
'I used to listen to your breathing in the dark,' he says in explanation. 'When we were still in the dorms. I would create excuses for you to drag your mattress next to mine. If you were close enough to me, I would hold my breath to listen to yours'.  
  
Jiyong slows the rhythm they have found together but doesn't stop their movements entirely. He maintains the slow rock of their bodies.  
  
'I love the sounds you make,' Seunghyun whispers. 'The quiet ones are the best, like these; the ones you're making now. I miss them when we're apart. When I'm alone at night I try to remember them'.  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I sleep better when we're together. I always have'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't know what to say in answer. There's sincerity and feeling in what Seunghyun is saying and maybe it's a strange sort of confession to make, or maybe it isn't. There were times he felt the same.  
  
When Seunghyun would film overseas, Jiyong would call him late at night so he could hear him fall asleep; so he could pretend they were in the same room. He didn't always do that, obviously, only every now and then but in those moments and on those nights when he asked for it, it seemed so important and vital to hear Seunghyun breathe. To not just have conversation but all the sounds in-between. The sound of two people sharing something in silence.  
  
_'Seunghyun---'._  
  
'You know, this takes me back,' he says knowingly. 'To the few times we had to touch or fuck in silence. Like that time in the dorms, or the time you blew me while I was on the phone. Do you remember? Those times we fucked in hotels with the windows open to make it more exciting,' Seunghyun smiles. 'Then there are the other times, like when I fuck _you_ and towards the end you bring your face up close to mine and you _cum_. You tense around me, your nails dig into my back,' he says, doing the same. Jiyong smarts from the feel of Seunghyun's fingers pinching him. 'And your thighs close against me,' he continues, doing the same again. 'But your breath?' Seunghyun questions. 'You just make this little sound, this little _sigh_. That drives me _crazy'._  
  
It isn't so much the words but the look on Seunghyun's face while he's talking that makes Jiyong go weak. He feels such a rush of tenderness, he kisses Seunghyun mid-sentence. It's messy and desperate but intoxicating. After several smaller kisses Jiyong breaks the chain to say something disgustingly sentimental.  
  
'I love you. I _love_ you'.  
  
It's somewhere in the middle of _this_ that the worst case scenario happens. It's somewhere in the middle of this distraction that a car turns off the main road onto the dirt track and headlights finally pierce the veil of their makeshift jacket curtains. They see them too late, there isn't time to move and re-dress without the car rocking or drawing attention to themselves.  
  
Seunghyun curses quietly and Jiyong stays down. He plants a hand over Seunghyun's mouth and listens. His heart pounds in his chest as the car pulls onto the gravel drive. He waits, poised to start praying to Jesus but they are lucky, for now. The car parks but at the opposite end of the rest stop. He releases his hand from Seunghyun's mouth, who whispers, annoyed.  
  
'Did you think I was going to scream?'  
  
'It just felt right,' Jiyong answers.  
  
Seunghyun sighs heavily beneath him, his face unusually expressive.  
  
'I never thought we'd get found out like _this'._  
  
'Do you think about us getting found out?'  
  
'Sometimes'.  
  
'If we get caught tonight, will you hate me for it?'  
  
'No. But I'd rather not get caught with my dick out all the same'.  
  
Jiyong laughs silently but Seunghyun shushes him.  
  
None of it is funny but Jiyong doesn't feel fear, he feels excitement. He wants to burst into hysterics and laugh for a hundred years. In a way, it would be better this way. Better to be caught like this, by his own actions than through someone else's blackmail and betrayal. Seunghyun doesn't look frightened either. Not really.  
  
'You don't look very scared'.  
  
'I'm not,' Seunghyun answers quietly. 'I don't know why. I think we'll be okay. I would be scared if a stranger was about to find me getting fucked in a car, wouldn't I'.  
  
'Probably,' Jiyong nods.  
  
'This must turn out fine then'.  
  
Jiyong keeps an ear on the other car. Eventually, doors open. Multiples. Two maybe? Voices start chattering away but he can't understand them, only every now and then does he recognise a word. He realises they're foreign. A man and a woman.  
  
'Americans,' Jiyong whispers.  
  
'Great'.  
  
Jiyong listens attentively and tries to piece together what they're saying but the wind and crickets are loud and his English is rusty. He hears a few words and the rustle of paper.  
  
'I think they're lost'.  
  
'Maybe you should call them over and give them directions'.  
  
'I do like to be helpful,' Jiyong answers, planting a soft kiss on Seunghyun's clothed shoulder.  
  
'Don't kiss me now!'  
  
Jiyong ignores him and kisses him again. He trails a line of kisses across Seunghyun's collarbone and to the soft skin beneath his jaw. Seunghyun pretends to hate it but his cock twitches between their stomachs and he is found out.  
  
Jiyong resumes his little shallow thrusts, slow and steady so the car doesn't move, so they draw no attention to themselves. It's risky but he really believes they won't get caught.  
  
'You are _not_ \---'  
  
'I am and you like it,' Jiyong answers in a whisper. 'Don't pretend you hate the risk. You liked it in that alley months ago and you were eager tonight. You put up a fight for ten seconds and folded. You fucked my thighs outside. You _like_ this'.  
  
Seunghyun doesn't answer. He closes his eyes and purses his lips tight, as if he can avoid culpability that way. He won't have to confess if he keeps his mouth shut. If this all goes wrong he can deny involvement. At the same time, his hands tighten around Jiyong's waist.  
  
'Well,' Jiyong smiles. 'I wonder where that little spot is---' he fishes around for it, so to speak, in shallow thrusts and rolls until Seunghyun huffs through his nose and his thighs clench. 'Ah. _There_ it is'.  
  
'Don't'.  
  
Jiyong answers Seunghyun's whispered threat by doing the exact thing Seunghyun warns him not to. He angles himself just right and in those same slow, imperceptible-to-foreigners movements, makes sure to hit that spot over and over.  
  
He hears the man and woman chatter by their car, their feet crunching in the gravel but not getting any closer. Keeping an ear on them, he focusses on Seunghyun and making this happen as quickly as possible. He works with renewed vigour. He watches his face. He notes his breathing. He catalogues how hard Seunghyun's fingers dig into him.  
  
'Have you ever cum without touching your dick?'  
  
'No'.  
  
'I think you could do it,' Jiyong whispers, 'if I kept fucking you like this'.  
  
'Let’s not find out,' Seunghyun answers pained. One of his hands leaves Jiyong's side and grabs the seat in front of him. He is close. There is a little shimmer of pre-cum on his stomach. Jiyong can feel it too, the way he clenches around him. He feels the same closeness. If he stops concentrating, if stops trying to dull the sensations in his mind, he'll cum prematurely. Seunghyun _has_ to cum first.  
  
A car door slams but only one. The man carries on talking, pauses and talks again. There is no answer. He is on the phone. Jiyong can't hear the woman any more. She's probably back inside the car. He hopes so anyway. He kisses Seunghyun on the lips  
  
'I love you,' he whispers. 'I want to make you cum'.  
  
'You want us to go to hell,' Seunghyun answers, pained. His hand on the seat balls into a fist. Sweat glistens on his brow. Jiyong makes sure he hits that sweet spot every time until Seunghyun is mouthing nothing but the word _fuck,_ a hundred times a minute. He is trying so hard not to cum _now_ in this inappropriate moment, but that only makes it harder. For all his sensibility and self-restraint, he gets off on the danger. He likes fucking when there is a risk of being caught.  
  
The foreigners voice goes quiet and Jiyong halts his motions to listen. He hears gravel underfoot. A second door closes after a few long moments and an engine starts up.  
  
'Thank God,' Seunghyun groans, above a whisper. ' _Fuck!'_  
  
'Be quiet. They're not gone yet'.  
  
'Stop _fucking_ me if you want me to shut up!'  
  
Jiyong slaps a hand over Seunghyun's mouth and fucks into him hard a few times until he can feel Seunghyun right on the very edge; until he's insensible and making desperate little sounds, his hands clinging to whatever they find. It's a sight to behold. He lifts the hand from Seunghyun's mouth and slides it between them instead, taking Seunghyun's cock in his hand.  
  
'Don't make any _noise'._  
  
He tugs on Seunghyun's cock twice and then it's over. Quickly. Seunghyun tightens around him, goes tense all over and cums--- _loudly_. This primeval fucking sound escapes him and a hand reaches back and up, clutching the base of the window while he rides it out. A visible tremor rolls through him.  
  
_'Fuck!'_  
  
When he's finished, Seunghyun groans in sheer _relief_ and Jiyong slams his clean hand over his mouth. He can still hear the other car in the lot. The engine is idling. They're still there. He hears faint voices but not loud enough to hear specific words. Through an open window maybe.  
  
'Oh my god,' Jiyong hisses. 'Are you fucking crazy? Shut up!'  
  
Seunghyun laughs silently beneath his palm and pulls on the centre of Jiyong's shirt. He frees his mouth and purposely clenches around Jiyong's cock.  
  
'Cum,' he says firmly _._  
  
'I can't just cum because you _tell_ me to'.  
  
Seunghyun pulls him down a little closer, kisses him quickly and says it again in a low whisper.  
  
_'Cum'._  
  
Embarrassingly, Jiyong does. A few shallow thrusts and he's there. It hits him like a fucking brick wall at high speed. Seunghyun drags him down by the back of the neck at the right moment so he can hear that _noise_ and Jiyong doesn't disappoint. When he cums he rides it out in silence but the _sigh_ escapes him at the end.  
  
It's a fantastic fucking _relief_. It feels like ten years of hard labour finally come to an end. A lifetime of pain and suffering done with. For a little while, Jiyong's burdens stay away. They can't touch him. Seunghyun palms his ass and holds him in place for a few deep breaths.  
  
'I've missed you'.  
  
Trying to keep his trembling arms from buckling beneath him, trying to keep his shirt off Seunghyun's stomach and away from their _mess_ \-- Jiyong hears the other car pull out of the rest-stop and the sound slowly draw away. He ignores Seunghyun's slowly tapering libido but allows a quick kiss.  
  
When they are finally separated and sitting on opposite ends of the back-seat with their pants off and their softening cocks between their legs, Jiyong hears Seunghyun emerge from the haze of lust and that idiotic need to cum no matter what.  
  
'Wow, that was stupid of us'.  
  
_'Yeah'._  
  
'Fun though'.  
  
'You want to fuck in my parents bed next?'  
  
'Kind of, but this was _your_ idea. Don't judge me for enjoying myself'.  
  
Jiyong groans and lets his forehead hit the glass window.  
  
'Let’s never do that again, please'.  
  
'Fine. It was nice though'.  
  
_'Yes'._  
  
Seunghyun stretches his arms above him, in a restricted pretzelly kind of way.  
  
'Thanks,' he says.  
  
Jiyong kicks a tired leg out sideways to knock his shin.  
  
'Stop thanking me for sex. You do it all the time!'  
  
Seunghyun fishes around the floor for his briefs.  
  
'It's just polite'.  
  
Jiyong laughs into his hands.  


  
  
  
  
*  
  


 

When he gets home at 11pm, Hyeong-bae is awake but isn't waiting for him. There is no exchange of looks or queries about where he's been. Jiyong knows he doesn't smell like sex either because Seunghyun suggested he _air himself out_ in the cold night air for ten minutes, which seemed to do the trick.  
  
Hyeong-bae murmurs a quiet hello from his place on the lounge and Jiyong returns it with his own and that's it. He goes to bed. There are no repercussions for what he did. He took a risk and it paid off.  
  
When he finally crawls into bed, he realises the feeling of getting away with something and having a nice time has become completely foreign to him. He barely recognises it. He can't tell any more if that says more about his life or himself as a person.  


 

  
* * *  
  


 

The next morning Hyeong-bae is missing. His work gear is gone so Jiyong figures he has a few hours until his return to think up a game plan. With two days left to extricate himself from his mess, he has made little progress. He has squandered two days out of awkwardness and guilt. And he _should_ feel those things but his career and Seunghyun's and their lives depend on him fixing the mistake. He has to _do_ something. He has to play on Hyeong-bae's guilt.  
  
He cheated on him for months, it shouldn't be a stretch to toy with him some more. All the same, it was easier with Seunghyun as a blinding force; with his feelings for him clouding his judgements. This is psychological, not emotional. He doesn't want to intentionally fuck with somebody, even to save himself.  
  
But-- Seunghyun. Youngbae. Daesung. Seungri. His _family._ They will all be affected if he can't fix this. If those videos of him get out, the casualties will be endless. So, he sits at the kitchen counter with a bottle of water and tries to think up ways of ending this.  
  
Hyeong-bae has been quiet for days and he _apologised_ for what happened, for the violence--- that denotes guilt. Jiyong wonders if he shouldn't nurse his stomach in Hyeong-bae's presence or touch his neck with a wince. He checks his neck in a hand-held mirror and finds faint marks still there so he purposely changes into a low-necked top. He pulls his growing hair into the smallest bun in history to make sure his neck is visible and plans to sit on the couch when Hyeong-bae gets home to encourage the view. The mark on his stomach is visible too but he can't justify walking around in a crop top so that's out.  
  
He thinks about flinching when Hyeong-bae approaches him but that makes him feel vaguely nauseous. After experiencing that momentary fear in earnest, he can't fake it.  
  
The whole business makes him tired.  
  
Can't they talk like two human beings instead of this charade? Jiyong wants to tell him everything, the whole story from beginning to end, so Hyeong-bae understands the cheating was just a stupid mistake because he was confused and there were so many feelings he had to contend with. It wasn't a flippant thing because he was horny or unsatisfied.  
  
Even if he tries to explain, he can't _really_ explain. He can't tell him about Seunghyun, he can't even tell him the _woman_ he's been fucking is a man. If Hyeong-bae found that out this late in the game, he would lose his mind. He would release those videos and then some. He would release testimonials to every media outlet in the country and outside of it. At least now, Hyeong-bae can tell himself this happened because deep down, he simply couldn't compete with a woman. It would be different to know he was competing with another man. That he lost to another man. That another man knew about him and participated in the cheating anyway.  
  
So why bother talking?  
  
More lies.  
  
It's pointless.

  
  
  
*  
  
  


  
When Hyeong-bae gets home, Jiyong is on the lounge where he planned to be. He is wearing the low-necked top with his hair in a little bun. The lights are on. He is blatantly showcasing the bruises on his neck.  
  
Only Hyeong-bae doesn't notice.  
  
He doesn't notice anything.  
  
He comes through the door looking miserable and dazed. It's a look Jiyong has only seen on him a few times before but even now, after everything, it hurts to see it. They spent too much time together. He can't be unaffected. Hyeong-bae walks right past him as if he doesn't see him, and trudges towards the hallway. Jiyong calls out before he is out of reach.  
  
'Are you alright? What happened?'  
  
Hyeong-bae starts in surprise, like he genuinely didn't realise Jiyong was present, let alone a few feet away. He turns and pauses at the entrance of the hallway. He shrugs vacantly and seems worn down.  
  
'I heard from the attorney today. My grandfather did what he said he would. He cut me out of the will'.  
  
For a moment Jiyong is irritated that his preoccupation with the will is coming up _again_ , as if money is that god damn important. Then again, he _has_ money. Maybe he would feel differently if he had none. Maybe he'll know what that's like soon. Still, it is grating. It is shallow and meaningless.  
  
'He cut us all out but I was the first,' Hyeong-bae continues. 'Hacked off like a rotting limb. That makes it worse somehow. None of us get anything but he cut me off _first_. Separately. Different from the rest'.  
  
Jiyong knew Hyeong-bae lost his money before his family lost theirs. He knew his grandfather cut him out. Hyeong-bae would sometimes make allusions to a falling out and something he did to cause the rift but he never explained.  
  
Jiyong doesn't want to know now. It's not his place to ask any more. He doesn't want the answers. All the same, he tries to say a few words. What else can he do? Ignore this show of misery? Disappear into the spare room without saying anything? What would the repercussions of that inattention be? Besides, he doesn't want to. Not really. What he does say seems inadequate but it's the only thing that seems right. He says it with sincerity so he knows it comes across.  
  
'I'm sorry that happened to you’.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles sadly and nods before disappearing in the direction he was headed. A few moments later Jiyong hears the bedroom door shut behind him. Hyeong-bae doesn't surface again for the rest of the night.  
  
Left on his own, Jiyong knows that tomorrow is his last chance. After that, it's judgement day. He'll pull the pin on the grenade himself. A sinking feeling forms in his gut and his hope begins to dwindle. His last chance will have to be a simple plea, man to man, _'please don't ruin my life'._

  
  
  
* * *  


  
  
He wakes up the next morning unexpectedly. He jolts upright in bed, sleep-dazed. His heart pounds in his chest. It isn't until he hears the knock on his door that he knows what woke him. He quickly drags on some sweatpants and opens the bedroom door. Hyeong-bae is hanging off the frame almost, blatantly drunk. His face is flushed and his eyes are bloodshot. Jiyong can smell a mix of booze and cigarettes on his breath. He doesn't know what time it is but it's probably too early for that.  
  
'Are you _drunk?_ It's morning!'  
  
And _why_? Because his grandfather cut him out of the will? It seems like an insane thing to care about considering the circumstances. Hyeong-bae is no worse off financially today than he was last week and if he is so desperate for money, he knows he only has to ask for it. He can extort all the money he wants out of this situation.  
  
'You acted like you cared earlier,' Hyeong-bae says morosely. 'Last night,' he clarifies. He rests his cheek on the door frame and looks pitiful. It's obvious that he has been up all night.  
  
'Did you think I wouldn't?'  
  
Hearing this, Hyeong-bae frowns. He seems small and weak, in search of comfort. He seems completely changed and vulnerable. It presents an opportunity. A potential hail mary at the eleventh hour.  
  
Jiyong knows this is his last day to turn things around. Tomorrow he has to end this relationship for good. But right now, drunk-- Hyeong-bae seems malleable. In this mood it might be possible for them to find common ground, for them to find a peaceful way out of their situation. If Jiyong says the right things, he might be able to talk him down.  
  
Hyeong-bae gestures vaguely between them _._  
  
'This is a mess,' he whispers. 'I didn't mean for this to happen'.  
  
He rolls his head against the wall, his shoulder supporting his weight. He looks like a forlorn child upset by the vagaries and injustices of youth. His eyes glisten. He looks so enfeebled and hurt by everything that has happened. For the first time in a week, there isn't a shred of anger in his face. No wounded pride or frustration beneath the surface. Just sadness.  
  
Jiyong takes his chance. He can use this. He can _fix_ this. This feels like two people on the verge of saying goodbye forever. He can foster that feeling. He fucked up and Hyeong-bae did too but they had so much before that to be thankful for. If he can steer them to that place, things will be alright. They can part ways without all the destruction.  
  
He extends his hand and Hyeong-bae takes it, their joined hands falling loosely between them. Hyeong-bae sounds so broken and tired when he talks, it's hard to believe the coldness and rage of last week really happened.  
  
'I don't want you to leave me'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't say what they both know; that he left him a long time ago--- even if parts of him remained behind.  
  
'I was thinking, last night, about that time we went camping,' Hyeong-bae says quietly, his eyes on the floor all the while. 'Do you remember? We weren't dating yet. I wanted to but I was confused about you and me. I went as a test, to see how I would feel when we were really alone together and there was nowhere to run. Plus you were living on your couch like a hibernating bear. I thought it would be good for you,' he says. 'I thought you would be different when we got there too. Like a celebrity. I thought you would hate all the dirt and I would have to do everything for you. I knew you pretty well but I thought all those things. I expected to laugh at your incompetence and save the day with my fucking manly nature skills'.  
  
Hyeong-bae sniffs at the end, his eyes bloodshot and heavy from his long night.  
  
Jiyong listens to his story with faint warmth.  
  
'It was like that at first, do you remember? Then I dropped half our shit in the river. I watched it float away like there was nothing I could do. It was all gone. Then you came out of the tent, took one look at everything floating off and you just walked in. You waded out and got everything back. You went into that disgusting water you couldn't see the bottom of. I hadn't even thought to do that. I think I knew I really liked you then. We'd been spending time together for months and I thought I knew you but you surprised me'.  
  
Jiyong smiles faintly. He remembers that weekend. He remembers the way Hyeong-bae's eyes fell over him each time he turned his back. He would catch him staring. Hyeong-bae watched when he took his clothes off to dry them, stealing glances at bare skin. He stared when he stretched in the tent and his shirt rode up. That was the first time Jiyong started to feel something in return --- after he lied to him and said he shared his feelings, that was the first time he thought it wouldn't always be a lie.  
  
He liked the adoration and attention. He put on a show, without letting Hyeong-bae notice that his actions were affected. He made sure his best angle was always visible. He made sure to act like the man he wanted to be.  
  
Their camping spot wasn't isolated. Other campers would walk up and down the river so he spent most of the time covered from head to toe so nobody would recognise him. He had to take his mask off once to thank an older man who Hyeong-bae conned into relinquishing half his dinner. Their little stove died in the water. Camping was terrible but watching Hyeong-bae approach a stranger and beg for food, telling the tale of his own incompetence? It was fun. He actually had a good time.  
  
Hyeong-bae frowns so deeply he seems to be sinking into the floor beneath him.  
  
'Why didn't you break up with me sooner?' he asks.  
  
'I'm _sorry'._  
  
Hyeong-bae's face contorts and he cries a little. He lets tears pool in his eyes and doesn't wipe them away. It's like he doesn't notice them. He speaks with an unsteady voice.  
  
'I wish I'd never seen you in that bar'.  
  
'If you hadn't, I could have died'.  
  
'Maybe, but wouldn't I be happier?'  
  
Jiyong feels an ache in his chest.  
  
'Do you mean that?'  
  
'No, I guess not'.  
  
Jiyong squeezes Hyeong-bae's hand. He takes this chance of openness between them to ask something he couldn't before. Something he didn't dare.  
  
'Why did you do this?' he asks. 'The videos? Telling me I had to stay? If it was just revenge you would have leaked them already. Why do this?’  
  
'Because I don't want you to leave,' Hyeong-bae answers simply. 'Even if you hate me, doing this--- you're still here. It was all I could think of to make you stay'.  
  
Jiyong's heart breaks because he understands this--- he is to Hyeong-bae what Seunghyun is to him. That one star in a dark sky. Someone to follow anywhere, no matter what the cost. The thought of severing the tie forever is unimaginable. Better to endure a thousand days of pain than face never seeing each other again. Behind Hyeong-bae's aggression and hurt pride is a raw and feeling little boy, desperate to retain the things which matter to him.  
  
'I hate you but I want you stay with me. Is that weird?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Because I do hate you. There are moments like these when I love you so much it chokes me. When I came home the other day and you were on the floor, I forgot for a second everything that happened. I just loved you'.  
  
Hyeong-bae finally wipes his eyes with his free hand. His emotion leaks into his voice.  
  
'But then I remember what you've done and I hate you so much it blinds me'.  
  
Jiyong's eyes begin to water and he frowns. He tries to discretely retrieve his hand but Hyeong-bae holds onto him, unwilling to relinquish his hold. He tugs Jiyong's wrist forward, putting him off balance so he has to step closer.  
  
Hyeong-bae turns his hand over in his.  
  
'You still wear the bracelet I gave you. Why?'  
  
'I never took it off. I got used to wearing it. I forgot it was there,' Jiyong answers truthfully. It became a part of his daily routine. It was just something he wore.  
  
A tear slides down Hyeong-bae's cheek and Jiyong wants to wipe it away out of habit. He restrains himself. He has already stepped far over the line and he doesn't know how to steer the conversation back to a place he can manipulate. He has missed that brief window of tenderness when it might have been possible to ask for forgiveness.  
  
'All those times you fucked your girlfriend, were you wearing it?' Hyeong-bae asks. 'Maybe she touched it one night and asked you where it came from. Did you tell her?'  
  
'Nothing like that ever happened'.  
  
Jiyong is careful to keep his voice clear of emotion. Steady. He missed his chance and now he has to contend with Hyeong-bae who is drunk and upset, reminiscing about their past. Nice memories didn't rekindle fondness like Jiyong hoped they would. They have done the opposite.  
  
'You should have taken it off,' Hyeong-bae says. 'Men take off their wedding rings when they cheat on their wives'.  
  
Jiyong tugs his hand back more forcefully but Hyeong-bae doesn't let go.  
  
'I want you to take it off. I want it back. It's mine'.  
  
The hairs on Jiyong's neck bristle. He has to end this conversation before it can go any further. He has to shut it down. He is losing control.  
  
'Fine. I'll give it back to you. Let me go. I'll take it off right now'.  
  
Hyeong-bae runs his thumb over the metal gold braids of the bracelet and the hairs on Jiyong's arms rise in answer. He tries to pull his hand free a second time but there is no give. He thinks of prying Hyeong-bae's hand off with his other hand but doesn't dare.  
  
'It was cheap, I know, but I wanted you to like it,' Hyeong-bae says. 'I could tell you didn't but you wore it every day anyway. I appreciated that'.  
  
Jiyong sighs quietly.  
  
'Please let go of me'.  
  
There is a brief moment when it seems like Hyeong-bae will do that. His mind appears to clear. He shakes his head a little as if coming back to himself and nods. Jiyong anticipates it. He thinks of what to do next, what words to say when he shakes free before hiding in the spare room. He has to wait it out. He has to try again when Hyeong-bae is sober. He is already thinking five steps ahead when Hyeong-bae speaks.  
  
'I'll just take it now'.  
  
His thick fingers slide under the band of the bracelet and curl. In the one second pause between that and what comes next, Jiyong knows exactly what he's about to do and has no chance to stop him.  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls-- yanks down in one short, violent burst and the bracelet comes off Jiyong's wrist in a flying arch, landing on the ground a few feet away. By the force of it, he is thrown onto the ground. He is like a taut rubber band, released--- shot down into the floor. Hyeong-bae yanks on the bracelet so hard that Jiyong goes with it. He lands awkwardly, too surprised and unprepared to break his own fall.  
  
He is so shocked to be on his knees suddenly, it takes almost twenty seconds for the pain to begin in dull waves and throbs. He looks at the bracelet on the ground ahead of him, torn clean in half, not at the clasp but at the point between two braids. He looks at his own wrist where it was not one minute earlier and there is a red line in its place already.  
  
He moves his hand absently in shock and this little movement sends a sharp pain through him. The pain shoots up his arm into his shoulder. He tries to move his hand again but the pain is unbearable. It's heavy. Weighted. There is a lump on the inside of his wrist, barely there but it wasn't there before.  
  
At Hyeong-bae's feet, without looking up to see if he is _surprised_ by the force of his action, Jiyong knows exactly what he has done.  
  
'You've broken my wrist,' he says, dumbfounded.  
  
At this, he looks up and the colour drains from Hyeong-bae's face until he is a pale imitation of himself.  
  
'What? _No._ I didn't---'  
  
'You broke my wrist,' Jiyong repeats, dazed.  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn't try to speak a second time. He looks shocked and sick. He looks around as if searching for witnesses, looking for bystanders who can exculpate him. _I didn't mean to do it, you all saw. It was an accident._  
  
Jiyong knows it _was_ an accident. Maybe Hyeong-bae wanted to hurt him a little but not like this. He was drunk--- he didn't think. It doesn't fix anything. His wrist is still broken. It hurts when he moves.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks genuinely sorry. He bends for a moment. His hand rests over Jiyong's hair--- fingers fanned out, seeking some way to be useful--- then he backs away, unsure. Jiyong watches in amazement. He watches Hyeong-bae turn away from him and move to the counter where his wallet is instead. Hyeong-bae picks it up and makes a bee line for the door. Not to open it, so he can take him to the hospital or the Doctor. To _leave._ His fight or flight response kicks in. After a night of solid drinking, he isn't thinking straight. He panics. He chooses flight.   
  
'You're fucking _leaving?_ ' Jiyong gapes. 'Where are you going?'  
  
'I have to go-- I didn't---'  
  
'Don't _leave_ me here! What am I supposed to do?'  
  
'I don't know. I don't---- _sorry--'_  
  
Hyeong-bae looks wild and panicked when he disappears out the door. Slowly, on its own, gravity shuts it behind him and Jiyong is left on the floor outside the spare bedroom, his mouth open in sheer amazement and surprise.

  


  
*

  
  
  
For a while, he sits right where he is and tries to comprehend what just happened. He has no idea what to do next or what happens when you break a wrist. The hospital? A Doctor? He can't drive himself anywhere and the thought of taking a cab with a broken arm is too depressing.  
  
What just happened makes him miserable but at the same time, he feels a weight lifted. He can breathe again. The guilt thins. He knows now there is no point in trying to excise himself from this situation. When he next sees Hyeong-bae, it's over. He'll tell him to leave no matter what. If Hyeong-bae releases the videos, he releases them. He will have to find a way to survive it.  
  
It's all done with now.  
  
All of it.  
  
He has run out the clock and all the options have disappeared.  
  
_Fin._  
  
Jiyong drags himself off the ground and tries to move his arm as little as possible. He calls his sister but she doesn't answer. He calls Youngbae too but he's mid-golf game in Gapyeong of all places with his girlfriend and her parents.  
  
Calling Seunghyun is out of the question because then he'll have to answer _questions_ and he would rather do that later when he isn't in pain with a bone potentially in the wrong place. Daesung is also out because he only calls him when he's in trouble and he doesn't want to be _that guy_ any more. When he calls Seungri, he answers after only a few rings. Public background noise makes it hard to hear him clearly but they manage.  
  
'Where are you? In the city?'  
  
'Yeah, why?'  
  
'Are you _busy?'_  
  
'Not really. I'm having brunch'.  
  
Jiyong snorts but it sends vibrations down his arm and he makes a note not to do that again.  
  
'Can you cut it short?'  
  
_'Why?'_  
  
'I've broken my wrist and I need you to drive me to a Doctor or wherever people go when they break stuff'.  
  
There is a pause and Jiyong wonders if Seungri heard him. He is about to repeat himself when laughter comes filtering down the line and Jiyong thinks _ahh yes._  
  
'You're supposed to enlist in two weeks. How did you break your wrist?'  
  
This hits him like a concussion.  
  
Jiyong's stomach sinks and the room spins. It isn't until now that he realises--- he can't enlist like this. Probably anyway. He doesn't know what happens in these situations. He doesn't _have_ to go in yet like Seunghyun does, it seems likely he'll be told to postpone a few months but that means he and Seunghyun won't go in together. It will add months to their time apart. How will Seunghyun react when he tells him what happened and that he has now cost them precious time?  
  
'Hyung?'  
  
'I was changing a light bulb,' Jiyong answers dully. 'And--- fell off the table?'  
  
'You sound uncertain. Did you hit your head at the same time?'  
  
'It's really not that funny'.  
  
'No, it's not. Are you okay?'  
  
'Yeah, apart from the broken bone thing. Are you going to help me?'  
  
'Yeah. I'll come now. I'm 10 minutes away from your place. Do you want me to bring you something to cheer you up? Like a muffin? Some banana bread?'  
  
'Just hurry up,' Jiyong answers, sullen.  
  
He hangs up before Seungri can respond.  
  
In any other situation, the light-hearted jibes would be exactly what he needs. Seungri has done that _every_ time he has hurt himself and it has made his injuries less difficult to bear every single time, but this is different. He can only think about what happens next. If he has to postpone his enlistment, he will have to sit around for months while Seunghyun is in there, doing whatever people _do_ in training.  
  
He always thought them doing it at the same time would make it more bearable. When it all got too much, he could think about Seunghyun going through the same thing and vice versa. It was supposed to buoy them up. Now he's fucked it all up. In comparison to his guilt, the pain in his wrist is almost non-existent.  


  
  
*  
  


  
When Seungri knocks on the door, Jiyong opens it and resumes his place on the couch in a grumpy display of childish irritation. Seungri follows and sits opposite him, a small frown on his face.  
  
'I didn't mean to upset you on the phone,' he says. 'I thought you liked it when I made light of your accidents. They always made you feel better before. I wouldn't have laughed otherwise. I know it’s not funny’.  
  
He seems genuinely concerned and sorry.  
  
'No, I do like it. I'm sorry. I just hadn't thought about the enlistment thing yet. When you said that, I just--- _fuck_ '.  
  
Seungri slaps him on the knee.  
  
'It'll be okay. We'll take you to the emergency room and figure that out later'.  
  
'We?'  
  
Jiyong looks behind him and notes the open front door.  
  
'You weren't gonna close that?'  
  
'That would be rude,' Seunghyun says, walking into the room. Jiyong stares in surprise and notes the unimpressed look on his face. There are emotions he can't read there. Stuff he hasn't seen on Seunghyun's face before. It's unsettling. It's almost dark.  
  
'What are _you_ doing here?'  
  
It is the first time Seunghyun has been in his apartment for _years_. Jiyong quickly scans the room looking for evidence of Hyeong-bae's inhabitation.  
  
'We were having brunch,' Seungri answers for him. 'Hyung drove. It would have taken me ages to get home and drive my own car here. We figured time was of the essence'.  
  
Seunghyun stands half way between the door and the lounge. He looks a little concerned but hides it well enough.  
  
'Are you okay?' he asks calmly.  
  
'Fine,' Jiyong answers.  
  
'There's no bone poking through the skin,' Seungri says loudly.  
  
Seunghyun looks at the dining room table and then up at the ceiling. Jiyong follows his gaze and realises there isn't a light anywhere near the table that he could change in order to _fall off one while changing a light bulb._ Seungri must have relayed his weak explanation. Of course--- Seunghyun would have asked what happened. He wishes he had thought of something more believable. He can lie of course but what's the point. He was going to tell Seunghyun everything anyway, tomorrow or the day after. This will just expedite things. When they are left alone, Seunghyun will probe him and he'll have to say what really happened.  
  
Then what?  
  
Seunghyun meets his gaze and Jiyong flushes from embarrassment. He turns back to Seungri and ignores the knowing look he thought he saw on Seunghyun's face.  
  
Seungri slaps his knee and rises.  
  
'Right, let's go get you fixed up'.  
  


 


	31. Chapter 31

 

 

He doesn’t mean to sleep. It just happens, like a baby lulled in the backseat by driving around the neighbourhood. Ultimately, it’s the change in road that wakes him. Highway gives way to rougher ground then to gravel and dirt. Vibrations rattle through his body, jostling his arm and wrist. He grimaces and opens his eyes. They are in an unfamiliar part of the city, nowhere _near_ his apartment. He rolls his head so the seatbelt isn't cutting into his neck any longer. Seunghyun notices his wakened state.  
  
'We're almost there,’ he says.  
  
'Where?' Jiyong asks. 'I asked you to take me home, not bury my body in an empty lot'.  
  
Seunghyun pulls the car into an area which is heavily under construction. A confluence of different stages of development, there are vacant lots, buildings of a few stories high and a skyscraper under way. Scaffolding marks each one like vine up crumbling brick. Between each block of metal, Jiyong can see empty lots pockmarking the neighbourhood like a chessboard only half occupied by pieces.  
  
After a winding turn, Seunghyun parks on the curb of a vacant lot. One of the few flat areas left untarnished by machinery and metal growth. The space is covered over with grass and wild-flowers. A little way to the back is a small copse of thin trees. It's a warm, dusty oasis between the growing buildings around it. It has the air of a crime scene; the kind of place in revenge thrillers where bad guys meet their maker.  
  
Seungri had the right idea taking a taxi home from the hospital. Jiyong wanted to follow suit but Seunghyun insisted on driving him and now he's here, wherever _here_ is, instead of at home dealing with the urgent matter of getting Hyeong-bae out of his house. He has a headache and a stiff neck and his braced wrist feels heavy against his chest. The sling digs uncomfortably into his shoulder. Looking out the window at the grassy patch of barren land, he feels prematurely exhausted.  
  
Seunghyun has been _off_ since they laid eyes on each other hours ago. Reminiscent of the way he was when he first appeared like a mirage after a year of being missing. Like a simulacrum then, and now; a puppet with interchangeable puppeteers. He looks the same but he’s off. Only half the lights are on. They have been through too much for Jiyong not to recognise _fake normal._  
  
Seunghyun’s eyes have looked around him all day, even when they were fixedly on his face, he wasn’t _seeing_ him. When they finally reached a private room at the hospital so a Doctor could look at him, Seunghyun stayed by his side. By all accounts he did everything he was supposed to, but it was disingenuous. Something was weird. Jiyong could _feel_ it. Seungri filled the room with chatter and jokes and that made each hour in the hospital more bearable, from the initial prodding to the X-ray to the brace. Through it all, Seunghyun said all of five words. He didn't make eye contact. He didn't contribute to Seungri's good natured ribbing and he seemed tense from start to end.  
  
Seungri noticed, he couldn't not.  
  
'Did you break something too?' he’d asked Seunghyun.  
  
'What?'  
  
_'He's_ the one in pain. Why do you look so miserable?'  
  
Seunghyun murmured a quiet apology, blamed tiredness and sank back into his silent, mopey reverie. Jiyong only started to get angry around the 90-minute mark, when his back started to ache from sitting hunched on the bed, and Seungri went to get a coffee, leaving he and Seunghyun alone together. He expected an explanation or some quiet words of comfort but Seunghyun said nothing at all.  
  
When Seunghyun went on a bathroom break and the Doctor was MIA, Jiyong probed Seungri for information. None of the answers he got were very comforting. Seunghyun was laughing, happy and normal at brunch. Ergo, the problem began once he made the call.  
  
'I thought you two were friends again?' Seungri asked.  
  
'We are'.  
  
'Doesn't seem like it'.  
  
After that, it was a narrowing down of possibilities. Was Seunghyun upset about their changed plans for enlistment, adding months of separation due to _clumsiness_? Jiyong could understand frustration borne from that.    
  
At the same time, if their roles were reversed and Seunghyun had broken _hi_ s arm, he would be nice about it all the same. He would be worried before anything else. Seunghyun wouldn’t give him the cold shoulder in a hospital unless it was something more than _that_. So, what was it? The hospital itself? It was the last place Seunghyun saw his grandmother alive, and for all Jiyong’s efforts to get him to talk about that, each coming to naught, her death still weighed on him heavily. Maybe being back had affected him unexpectedly.  
  
Jiyong considered both possibilities and tried to be understanding. He was encouraged when the Doctor came back, threw down the worst-case scenario for his fracture (surgery) and the better scenario (cast). He had a minor displacement but _minor_ minor, so the Doctor put his bones back in place with his bare hands and Seunghyun was present for that, not just physically either, he seemed to pay attention. He offered up a hand for Jiyong to squeeze while it was happening and touched the small of his back afterwards when no-one was looking. For a minute, he was the boyfriend you wanted in the hospital with you. When the Doctor left the room to get the right sized brace (too much swelling for a cast), Seungri cracked jokes and Seunghyun laughed.  
  
'Look at your hand. It looks like a blown-up rubber glove,' Seungri had said. 'You look like Eddie Murphy from The Nutty Professor, when the serum started to wear off'.  
  
So-- Jiyong thought maybe it was nothing after all. Seunghyun's silence and distance on the ride to the hospital and in the waiting room and all the rest was just one of those things. But the Doctor came back, the brace went on, and as they were all gearing up to leave, Jiyong could see Seunghyun disappear again. Physically there but mentally somewhere else.  
  
His patience wore thin.    
  
In the carpark, afterwards, Seungri hailed a taxi and Jiyong tried to go with him but Seunghyun caught his elbow and pulled him back from the curb.  
  
'I'll drive you', he said.  
  
All protests met with sheer refusal on Seunghyun’s part to accept anything but. He promised to drive him straight home so Jiyong reluctantly agreed. He had no choice. He hopped in Seunghyun's car and settled in for an uncomfortable ride home in silence, or for some explanation for Seunghyun’s behaviour. Only he fell asleep before _either_ could bother him. Awake for only a few hours, the morning had drained him. He was exhausted.  
  
Now they're here. In an empty lot somewhere and _not_ at his apartment where Seunghyun promised to take him. What little patience and consideration Jiyong had left disappears. In pain, tired, confused, and faintly hurt—he watches Seunghyun get out of the car without a word.  
  
Seunghyun walks across the empty lot, stopping roughly in the middle or a little before that. He stands with his back to the car and doesn’t move, or gesture, or turn back.  
  
Jiyong weighs up the pros and cons of staying in the car and not playing into whatever this detour is, but he is exhausted and wants to go home. The sooner he gets out of the car and does whatever Seunghyun wants of him, the sooner they can leave. So Jiyong follows him, trailing across the dirt until he is a few feet to Seunghyun’s right. They stand in silence and his arm aches. He was allowed to suck on a whistle full of morphine while the Doctor groped his wrist. He thinks about that like he remembers pleasant holidays. If he could just go back to that.  
  
Wind blows his hair into his face and dirt around his ankles until he feels like an hourglass filling with sand. The silence gnaws away at him. He turns to demand _something_ when Seunghyun breaks the silence, staring ahead of him like he’s delivering a dramatic monologue from a film. Like he doesn’t know where he is.  
  
'I own this,' he says, gesturing vaguely.  
  
'What? The _land?_ '  
  
'From here to that crane in the distance'.  
  
The lot is bigger than Jiyong imagined, or Seunghyun owns two, this grassy area and the next one along. It's a huge space in amongst other huge spaces. Here, he feels very small. Towering buildings surround them on all sides, yet this empty space they're standing on seems to stretch on forever. It doesn’t really settle in--- the enormity of what Seunghyun is saying. He _owns_ this? Why?  
  
'When?’ Jiyong asks. ‘What is it for?'  
  
'I bought it months ago,’ Seunghyun answers plainly. ‘Over here,' he says, gesturing to the space directly in front of them, 'I'm putting an art gallery. I made a few good investments here and there. I've sourced a lot of good pieces. I have a business advisor. We’ve been working out the logistics, the permits and the plans. I wanted to make sure I could have exactly what I wanted. I finally got the green light'.  
  
Jiyong listens but the full weight of this takes time to settle in. A _gallery?_ He wonders if over the last few months, Seunghyun hasn't been doing too much. Throwing himself into endless projects and new things to distract himself from having to look inward. But maybe that's unfair. Maybe this is years in the making.  
  
'Over there,' Seunghyun says, pointing to the copse, 'will be a studio. We'll rent it out to local artists, let them have the space for free or on the cheap, under the condition they donate some art at the end of their stay. Or we'll host an exhibition for their pieces and take a percentage. We haven't figured that one out yet but that's what I want to do. Something like that'.  
  
'You want to support local artists?' Jiyong questions.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs tiredly, as if intuiting his surprise.  
  
‘Frankly, it wasn’t my idea. My sister’s husband suggested it, but I like it’. Seeing Jiyong grapple with this, he explains. ‘He helped me with some of the logistics’.  
  
It's a nice idea. Complicated, but nice. Jiyong has a faint recollection of that pizza dinner a lifetime ago, Seunghyun and his sister’s husband conspiring in the corner, talking about business. He paid no attention at the time, there were bigger things going on. He feels a pang of guilt for his disinterest. This is a big deal and it happened right in front of him.  
  
Seunghyun continues and Jiyong observes his profile, disbelieving all of this could happen under his nose.  
  
'Building won't start until I get out,' Seunghyun says, alluding to his enlistment. 'I want to be available in case there are any problems. The land will sit here for two years. My sisters husband talked me through the upcoming changes in the neighbourhood. I've been keeping an eye on things myself. That scaffolded building over there will be a cultural museum in a few months. That one over there,' he says, pointing to a smaller, still in-construction building, 'will be the facade of a garden they're building behind it. Over there, some cafes and restaurants'.  
  
Jiyong stares at the dull, grey landscape and struggles to envision a future in which this area is revitalised into a chic escape from the bustling city.  
  
'This should be a more cosmopolitan area by the time my gallery is finished and ready to open. It will be a different place altogether,' Seunghyun says confidently.  
  
'I had no idea you were doing this'.  
  
Jiyong feels a knot in his stomach, like a clenched fist twisting up his insides. He worries. How did he miss this? Is he doing it again? Ignoring all the important parts of Seunghyun's life because they don't involve him? He's literally standing on Seunghyun's future, on his hopes and dreams and it isn't until this very moment that he even knows they _exist_.  
  
'This is really incredible. Honestly---'  
  
'This is what I want to do when I get out,' Seunghyun says. 'I want this place to be my main occupation. I'm building it and I want to curate it. I got those degrees for a reason. This is what I _want_ '.  
  
Jiyong’s frustration and hurt peter away, replaced by a bittersweet mixture of pride and sadness. _Pride_ because Seunghyun has been building towards this for a long time, that’s obvious now, and he had the wherewithal to make it happen despite all his setbacks. Pride that he’s doing what he wants instead of what is expected of him. _Sadness_ that the past really has passed; that a decade of making music and whispering together, late into the night in hotels across the globe, is finished. He knew Big Bang as they were, were over. He knew it when he called Seunghyun that first Christmas and told him so, that they could never work together again. He meant it then and he knows it now. Even if Seunghyun wanted that life back, they couldn’t make it work. After everything that has happened, they can be together or they can be partners professionally, but not both.  
  
A warmth blooms in his stomach and pride swallows up that sadness. If their former lives have to die for Seunghyun to have a better one, that’s okay. They have been through too much, together and individually, for him not to believe that. Like a sap, his eyes water with the enormity of this reveal, all the layers to this that he hasn’t got time to comprehend. He presses a knuckle to his eyes in turn, to stop himself from crying. He is overwhelmed and he doesn’t know why. Seunghyun’s successes feel like his own.  
  
‘Wow,’ he says.  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t turn to face him. He stares at the empty space ahead and Jiyong toes the dirt with his shoe, unsure what to say, unsure why they are here or why Seunghyun has chosen today to share this with him.  
  
‘I’m happy for you,’ Jiyong says tentatively.  
  
When Seunghyun still doesn’t turn, Jiyong takes a step closer but maintains a little distance.  
  
‘So, what’s the problem?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
‘This is huge,’ Jiyong pushes. ‘This is big and exciting and you should be happy about it. We should be _celebrating_ this. So why do you look so miserable? What’s going on with you? Seungri said you were fine at brunch, he said you were laughing. You were happy’.  
  
‘I was’.  
  
'So what happened between brunch and my apartment?'  
  
Seunghyun turns and lowers his gaze. Jiyong follows it down to his arm, in a brace for a few days until the swelling goes down. The gaudy white sling keeping it flat against his chest feels like overkill, but it hurts less.  
  
‘Did I ruin your day?’ Jiyong asks, gesturing at the sling. ‘Did my little accident fuck up your plans or something?’  
  
Seunghyun frowns.  
  
'Of course not'.  
  
'So what's wrong? It's obviously something to do with me. Put me out of my misery'.  
  
Seunghyun sighs and looks at his chunk of land. He looks wistful and sad, like a person saying goodbye to a dream. Jiyong wonders why Seunghyun brought him here at all. What correlation exists between his broken wrist and a gallery that doesn’t exist yet? He is about to push for an explanation when Seunghyun turns on his heels and starts walking back to the car.   
  
'Let's go. We'll talk at home'.  
  
'My home?'  
  
'No. Mine'.  
  
Jiyong sighs in turn.  
  
'Remember at the hospital, when you promised to take me home, and I reluctantly agreed to go with you under those conditions?'  
  
'I do'.  
  
Jiyong watches Seunghyun’s back recede, unwilling to follow him blindly without answers.  
  
‘So what happened to that?’ he yells after him.  
  
_'I lied’._  
  
Seunghyun reaches the car without Jiyong having taken a step. Seunghyun stops inside the open door and rests an elbow on the roof, yelling back.  
  
'Are you coming?'  
  
'Do I have a choice? What’s going on? Are you kidnapping me?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs and says, ‘I guess,’ – loud enough that his words carry.  
  
Jiyong frowns, irritated.  
  
Seunghyun was so persistent at the hospital, he had no choice but to go with him. He promised to take him home and that's where he expected to go, not to an empty lot and then Seunghyun's apartment for more silence and bombshells and unanswered questions.  
  
He considers _not_ getting in the car. Whatever is going on, it's bad timing. While he still has righteous indignation on his side, he needs to go home. He needs to find Hyeong-bae and _deal_ with this. He needs to get him out of the apartment and out of his life and face the consequences. He doesn’t want to wait any more. He should have cut the strings a long time ago, He should have dealt with things as they happened. Now that there’s only one option, he wants to get it over and done with. He wants to pull the trigger.  
  
Seunghyun gets in the car and turns on the ignition. Jiyong watches the shadow of his profile through the tinted window and falters.  
  
Maybe they do need to talk first.  
  
Maybe he should warn Seunghyun before he lights the fuse on that bomb. It's only fair. This will affect him too. It will affect all of them. He thinks about Seungri being a model friend today. He thinks about Daesung and Youngbae, home at last and free, spending time with their families and girlfriends. How painful to have that yanked away so quickly.  
  
His parents. His sister. He has to call them. He has to warn them something is coming, though he can never tell them what. It will be easier for them to see for themselves, along with everyone else in the world, when his most private and vulnerable moments are plastered across the internet and every news station across the country.  
  
His stomach sinks. The broken wrist was the easy part. The hard part is what comes next. The rest of his life. These could be his last moments of peace. His last moments of privacy. He takes a deep breath and tries to be fully present in this moment. He looks at the ground beneath his feet and the sky above him. He focusses on the distant sound of traffic and the wind. He tries to remember what this is like. This _feeling._ Knowing the world isn't yet stacked against him. All things are possible. In this single moment, everything is okay.  
  
A deafening horn pierces the silence and Jiyong winces at the intrusion.  
  


  
  
* * *

  
  
  
  
He toes his shoes off by the door and shuffles after Seunghyun into the lounge-room. It’s messier than usual. He takes stock of where everything is versus where it used to be and sees scuff marks on the ground by the table, as if Seunghyun rearranged the room and then tried to put it all back, but slightly off, as if he couldn’t quite remember the way things were.  
  
Seunghyun sits on the armrest of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed. He still has his shoes on.  
  
'Can I get you something?’ he asks. ‘A glass of water? A cigarette?’  
  
The last sparks Jiyong’s interest. He can’t remember the last time he smoked. All the same, he declines. Something tells him Seunghyun isn’t going to wait long enough for him to finish one.  
  
'You've barely acknowledged me today,’ Jiyong answers instead. ‘Why the sudden attentiveness?'  
  
'Because I'm not in public anymore and I'm allowed to get upset'.  
  
'About what?’  
  
‘You’.  
  
‘I’m _fine_ ’.  
  
‘Are you?’  
  
Jiyong frowns in confusion. There’s a tone. Unexpected. Accusatory.  
  
'Sit down,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
‘I’ll stand’.  
  
Uncertainty rankles him. Seunghyun folds his arms across his chest and Jiyong barely recognises him suddenly. It’s like a dark cloud has passed overhead and cast shadows that weren’t there before.  
  
'What happened to your wrist?’ Seunghyun asks plainly. ‘Don't lie'.  
  
'Why would I lie?'  
  
'Because you lied earlier'.  
  
Jiyong doesn't wonder how Seunghyun knows that. He doesn't choose his next words carefully, trying to see five steps ahead. He just answers. He tells him.  
  
'You're right’.  
  
'What happened to it?'  
  
'He broke it'.  
  
Jiyong holds his breath and feels a comforting release in telling the truth, in saying something without guile for once, without planning it, without working up to it. Seunghyun's answer is silence.  
  
'That doesn't surprise you?' Jiyong asks. 'No follow up question? You don't need to ask who I'm talking about?'  
  
'I know who you're talking about,' Seunghyun says easily. He says Hyeong-bae’s name slowly, enunciating each character, like a spoonful of medicine he can’t quite swallow. _Hyeong-bae._  
  
Jiyong blanches. He’s never said that name in Seunghyun's presence. He’s never dropped enough clues for him to figure out who he is _._ There is no way Seunghyun can have that information _and yet._  
  
Jiyong scrutinises him. He takes stock of the sudden change in Seunghyun’s demeanour, and it becomes obvious too quickly. So obvious, it seems impossible that he didn’t notice it earlier. He should have recognised it when Seunghyun first walked into his apartment. It is written in the lines of his face, through the look in his eyes and his fingers tap-tapping against his bicep like a nervous tic. He is tightly wound, carefully keeping himself in check.  
  
'Oh,' Jiyong says heavily. 'You know'.  
  
'Yes'.  
  
'How?'  
  
'John'.  
  
_'When?'_  
  
'Days ago'.  
  
Jiyong feels a weight materialise in his gut. This is unexpected. He doesn’t know how to adjust to the circumstances. Control slips through his fingers in an instant.  
  
'You didn't say anything'.  
  
'No'.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'I tried in the car the other day but you wouldn't let me,' Seunghyun answers. 'You made it sound like you had a plan, like you were going to be fine if I just gave you three days, so I did. I trusted you'.  
  
This implies his trust was misplaced. Jiyong’s defences go up.  
  
'My time’s not up yet’.  
  
'That's not funny'.  
  
‘It wasn’t _meant_ to be _'._  
  
Jiyong stands motionless, in silence, in shock. It takes time to comprehend what it means for Seunghyun to know. For Seunghyun to know what he’s _done_ , what Hyeong-bae has threatened and will inevitably do; all the ramifications of his mistakes. All of it. The whole shameful truth he wanted desperately to keep hidden. He was going to tell Seunghyun but he was going to control the flow of information when he did. He was going to frame things the right way. John betrayed him. Seunghyun’s face softens, pitying. For a moment, the anger dissipates and all Jiyong sees is a paternalistic charity when he speaks.  
  
‘Are you okay?’  
  
Jiyong flinches at Seunghyun’s words. Anger blooms in him and his body tenses, ready to spit out a retort about betrayal or being made a fucking fool of, but the words catch in his throat and nothing comes out. _Of course I’m not okay._ Instead, the opposite happens. It takes him unawares. Emotion wells in him. Feelings he doesn’t recognise, that feel alien to him, like he’s experiencing someone else’s trauma and heartache and guilt. His eyes well up and after a terse moment trying to fight it, a tear rolls down his cheek followed by another, noiselessly. Emotions consume him. They take on a life of their own. He doesn’t know where it comes from, or what it is. He just stands there, _crying_ , with his good fist clenched by his side, his knuckles going white under the strain.  
  
He sniffs back a tear but another one follows it. He tries to hide them, but all he can do is keep a straight face and pretend the rest isn’t happening, that his face isn’t wet. It all seems to come in waves, unfurling slowly, sending licks of bitterness and other sour feelings around his ankles and higher until he feels like he’s drowning in them. Until he feels like he can’t breathe. All the while Seunghyun saying nothing, because what _can_ he say?  
  
Even knowing what John knows, he can’t understand what any of this has _been_ like; to have every step and action and inaction be the wrong move. Every choice bad. No matter what. Each time changing tack, the world reorienting itself against him. What can Seunghyun say? Of course he’s silent. After everything they’ve been through, he’s ruined both of their lives. Not has. _Will_. He can’t stop it now. Hyeong-bae’s revenge has been set in motion. It can’t be undone.  
  
When Seunghyun does speak, Jiyong is relieved to have the silence broken. For a time, he can beat back the wash of emotion taking over inside him.  
  
'What happened this morning?’  
  
'We talked,' Jiyong answers. 'He got upset. He tried to take my bracelet off'.  
  
‘How?’  
  
'He tore it off. I fell’.  
  
Seunghyun's jaw clenches; the tell-tale depression in his cheek visible.  
  
‘He was drunk,’ Jiyong says, wanting to explain. Seunghyun doesn’t understand. He wasn’t there for any of it. He doesn’t _get_ it. Like John didn’t get it, Seunghyun won’t either. ‘It was an accident’.  
  
‘Drunk _and_ violent? That makes me feel better’.  
  
‘I’m not trying to make you _feel_ better. I’m just telling you what happened’.  
  
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ Seunghyun answers. ‘He wanted to hurt you. He did. The end’.  
  
Seunghyun rolls his shoulders, as if he can shake off the ugly truth. He lets out a measured breath to remain calm. He doesn't speak or volley another question over the net. He sits there silently.  
  
'How much do you know?' Jiyong asks.  
  
He hopes it's less than everything, that Seunghyun only knows parts, that John didn't betray him completely and rob him of this moment, of his chance to frame things in the right way when he confessed the extent of the situation.  
  
‘He has hurt you,' Seunghyun answers, dashing any hopes, 'and is blackmailing you with compromising videos,' he says, ‘to trap you in that apartment with him’.  
  
Jiyong’s face flushes.  
  
What did John _tell_ Seunghyun? How did he frame the story? With or without the nuances and considerations? Jiyong's heart pounds from anxiety and all those feelings waging war in him begin to reassert their control, torrents of rage and fear and guilt. He has no control over this conversation. After weeks of self-imposed stoicism, he can see himself through someone else’s eyes and he is embarrassed by it.  
  
'You should have told me,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
'I should have done a lot of things’.  
  
Seunghyun looks to the ground, his face cycling through a dozen wildly different emotions so quickly Jiyong can’t tell what he’s feeling at all. Is Seunghyun angry with him? He must be. It’s in the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers reflexively tighten against his biceps every time he speaks, because the upcoming denouement; the destruction of everything they’ve worked for, together and separately --Hyeong-bae’s revenge -- will consume Seunghyun like a landslide, his life and career buried under so much rubble because was too near the edge.  
  
He’s going to lose everything, Jiyong thinks, because of _me_.  
  
They stay silent for what feels like hours. Jiyong can’t think what to say next. He can’t even imagine the route this conversation should be on. There is no precedent for this. No preparation. Seunghyun seems pensive, wrestling with something in his head. When he finally does speak, it’s to the room. He can’t hold eye contact for more than a few seconds.  
  
‘Do you know where I’ve been the last few days?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘The parking lot under your building’.  
  
Seunghyun holds his gaze for a few long seconds as he confesses this information, dropping his eyes when he continues.  
  
‘John told me what you said to him. All of it. I wanted to _do_ something but he told me not to. He said you were about to tell me on your own, that it was important for you to _come_ to me, so I held off,’ Seunghyun says. ‘You told me _three days_ so I gave you that time, for all the good it did you. Instead of helping you or being there for you, I was sitting in my car beneath your apartment, _just in case’_.  
  
Jiyong’s heart cracks, just a little.  
  
‘You didn’t need to do that’.  
  
‘Yes, I did. What if you called? What if you needed me and I couldn’t get there in time?’  
  
‘You live twenty minutes away’.  
  
‘Twenty minutes is a long time. How long did it take him to break your arm? Two seconds?’  
  
Seunghyun shakes his head, staring at the space that lay ahead of him.  
  
‘And you know, I wasn’t even there this-morning,’ he continues. ‘I should have been there like I was every other morning but today was different. Seungri called. He wanted to have lunch and I thought--- what harm can an hour do?’  
  
‘It wouldn’t have mattered,’ Jiyong says. ‘You wouldn’t have known. I still wouldn’t have called you’.  
  
‘I would have known,’ Seunghyun answers confidently, resuming eye contact. ‘I would have’.  
  
‘How?’  
  
Seunghyun clasps his hands together in his lap, taking a deep breath as if trying to relieve some deep-seated tension, always wrestling with something unspoken.  
  
‘I would have seen him come out. I would have _seen_ it. I would have _known_ something had happened’.  
  
‘You don’t know who he is. You don’t know what he looks like! You would have seen a man exit a building and intuited what happened?’  
  
Seunghyun grinds his teeth and stares at his shoes. Jiyong catches a look--- _something._ Seunghyun hangs his head. Rigid and guilty.  
  
‘What?’ Jiyong asks. ‘What did I say?’  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t answer but that _is_ the answer. Out of the field of possibilities, somehow, Jiyong knows exactly what it is, as if Seunghyun has said it clearly, and twice for clarity.  
  
‘You know what he looks like,’ Jiyong says, dazed. ‘ _How?_ ’  
  
Seunghyun lays his hands on his knees like a penitent schoolboy. When he speaks, Jiyong winces.  
  
‘Because I was jealous and possessive? When you told me you were seeing somebody, I had to know who it was. I had to know that you were going to be okay’.  
  
‘It was none of your business!’ Jiyong snaps, stunned by this. ‘When? I don’t understand! What did you _do?’_  
  
‘I swung by your building a few months ago. It was just a process of elimination’.  
  
Seunghyun says this coolly, like he’s an old hand at private investigation. It makes the hairs on Jiyong’s arms stand tall.  
  
‘What are you talking about? Did you stake-out my apartment looking for men who fit the description I gave you?’  
  
‘Yeah, actually I did. I found a couple of candidates and loitered on the ground floor, watching which button they hit on the elevator’.  
  
‘Tell me you’re _joking,_ ’ Jiyong snaps.  
  
‘I found him,’ Seunghyun continues. ‘Yey high,’ he gestures, ‘big shoulders. Tight shirt. Travelled up to the 16th floor’.  
  
‘I’m not the only apartment on level 16’.  
  
‘No. But there’s only three and I buzzed the other two asking if a young guy lived there, because he just dropped something in the lobby. It was a stretch but it worked. It was easy’.  
  
Jiyong gapes at Seunghyun like he’s a stranger because he may as well be. He feels violated. For all the ways that they have each stepped over the line in each-other’s lives, this feels like a whole new game. One he didn’t ask to play.  
  
‘That’s _demented’_.  
  
Seunghyun recoils from the venom in his voice.  
  
‘I just wanted you to be okay,’ he answers defensively.  
  
Jiyong scoffs and wishes he had both hands free to shake the hell out of him or strangle him or both. For a moment, he wants to go back in time. He wants to return to the moment he first knocked on Seunghyun’s door, months ago, knowing that it would change things between them. He wants to return and do it differently. He wants to stay his hand and go home. Forget about it. What’s dead is dead.   
  
‘I _was_ okay. The only reason I wouldn’t have been okay was _you_. You remember that right? When you were still treating me like garbage and he was still a nice guy?’ Jiyong asks. ‘I told you I was dating and you stalked him?’  
  
‘I didn’t stalk him. I kept an eye out!’  
  
‘That’s stalking. You _stalked_ him. You were running around doing covert ops and playing dumb when we were together. What was your intention anyway? To police my life from the shadows? You didn’t want anything to do with me but stalked the guy who did?’ Jiyong demands. ‘And only when you found out it was a man? You didn’t drop by when you thought I had a girlfriend?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘No. Only when you knew it was a man. That’s just great’.  
  
‘I’m sorry’.  
  
‘You had no right,’ Jiyong answers bitterly. ‘I would _never_ do that to you!’  
  
‘I _know’._  
  
Seunghyun looks penitent but Jiyong’s blood boils and he doesn’t know what it is; if it’s embarrassment or true anger or something else. Maybe it’s the implausibility of Seunghyun’s noble reasoning, _I just wanted you to be okay_. Only when he knew it was a man? No. That’s jealousy. It’s ugly and disappointing. They prove it to each other over and over, but he wants them to be better than that, and he doesn’t know why they can’t be.  
  
‘Anything else?’  
  
Seunghyun shakes his head in answer and Jiyong rests his good hand on his hip, suddenly curious.  
  
‘Tell me, what would you have done if you _found_ something?’ he asks. ‘If your snooping dug something up? If he hurt me months ago, and you knew?’  
  
‘I have a baseball bat’.  
  
Jiyong bites back a laugh.  
  
‘And now? What do you think you should do _now_?’  
  
‘Get the bat’.  
  
Jiyong’s stomach turns at the blend of sincerity and jest in Seunghyun’s face and voice. He wants it to read lightly, but it isn’t light.  
  
‘Is that how you were going to help me?’ Jiyong asks seriously. ‘Hurt him back? You think I want that?’  
  
‘You should’.  
  
‘I should? Why? Because he got rough with me a couple of times? Because things got messy? What do you want? Do you want me to sic you on him? To rescue me? Avenge me?’  
  
_‘Yes!’_  
  
‘I don’t need you for that!’ Jiyong answers heatedly. ‘I don’t need you to come in swinging and save the day. That’s not going to fix anything. You don’t think I would have done that myself If I thought It would help me?’  
  
‘I have my doubts’.  
  
Jiyong takes a half-step back, surprised by the bitterness in Seunghyun’s voice.  
  
_‘Excuse me?_ ’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs confrontationally.  
  
‘You didn’t come to me,’ he says. ‘You sought help from somebody you don’t even know, and you waited until the last possible moment. That guy literally had to leave a handprint on your neck before you thought you should tell someone what was going on. I don’t understand you’.  
  
Jiyong frowns. Some of the fight goes out of him. It is his turn to avoid eye contact now that Seunghyun is desperate to hold onto it. Jiyong doesn’t give it to him. He answers while staring at the space between them.  
  
‘I went to John because apart from you, he’s the only person on earth who knows about you and _me_. I went to him because I thought I could fix it. Because I thought I should at least _try_ and fix it before _dumping_ this on you. I thought a few extra days might make a difference. I thought it was better if you didn’t know. I thought I could manipulate _Hyeong-bae_ into changing his mind. Lots of reasons, I don’t know. I just did it’.  
  
‘And the plan?’ Seunghyun asks cavalierly, folding his arms across his chest. ‘You must have had a plan to fix things all on your own. What was it?’  
  
‘Guilt,’ Jiyong answers, ashamed. ‘Whenever we fought or something happened, he felt _guilty_ afterwards. I thought I could play on that. I thought I could play the victim and show off my bruises and reminisce about the good times until he changed his mind about ruining my life the way he says I ruined his. I thought I could reason with him. I had a chance this-morning. I could have done it but I fucked it up’.  
  
Seunghyun nods, absorbing this last piece of information. Jiyong sees the motion on his periphery. It’s stilted.  
  
‘And if you hadn’t fucked it up?’ Seunghyun asks. ‘If he hadn’t broken your wrist, you would still be there?’  
  
‘Probably’.  
  
‘For how long? When were you going to tell me?’  
  
‘I don’t know Seunghyun _, tomorrow_ I guess. Three days, remember?’  
  
Seunghyun ignores this facetiousness.  
  
‘What if he did more than break your wrist? If he put you in the hospital? If he _killed_ you?’  
  
‘That’s a little dramatic’.  
  
Seunghyun’s jaw tenses and his nostrils flare. Jiyong is forced to look him in the face. Seunghyun closes his eyes, trying to reign in something he is trying desperately _not_ to let out. Jiyong anticipates his failure but still feels the full force of what comes next.  
  
Seunghyun’s arms unravel, they take on a life of their own as he yells, giving force to his words. This is real feeling, the emotions of a much older person, one who has decades more hurt to excoriate than Seunghyun should.  
  
‘Are you fucking _stupid?’_  
  
Jiyong flinches at the volume and the _language_. Seunghyun stands abruptly and Jiyong steps back in surprise.  
  
‘I have _never,_ ’ Seunghyun stresses, ‘been more angry with you in my _life_. I have never been this angry with _anyone_. I can’t understand you. I feel like I barely _know_ you. Are you a fucking idiot? _Are you?’_  
  
Jiyong’s lips part but nothing comes out. He is stunned into silence.  
  
‘Look at you!’ Seunghyun shouts. ‘Look at your arm! You’re in a sling! And what about _this,_ ’ he questions, moving to Jiyong’s back, tugging on the back of his collar, ‘there are still marks here! And the other one?’  
  
Seunghyun moves to his front and goes to lift his shirt, but Jiyong pushes his hand away.  
  
‘I saw them. He _did_ that to you!’ Seunghyun yells, undaunted. ‘He fucking hurt you on purpose, and you thought if you stuck around, he might feel bad and change his mind? That he would _apologise_? Look what he did! And I have to find out from John? _John?’_  
  
‘I know what he _did_ ,’ Jiyong snaps back. ‘It _happened_ to me, remember? You think I made bad choices? So what! It doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen to you. _I_ had to make those choices. _Me._ I did the best I could,’ Jiyong unloads. ‘As for John, at least he didn’t shout in my fucking face’.  
  
Seunghyun, about to answer, is silenced by this. Jiyong struggles to keep an even voice when he continues.  
  
‘When someone blackmails you and threatens to ruin _your_ life, I suspect no matter what choices you make, it’s going to turn out _badly_. So, don’t yell at me like I’m some moron, as if I don’t know what I’ve done’.  
  
Seunghyun slumps back down to his precarious position on the arm of the couch, arms folded across his chest. It is barely noticeable but he is shaking. Jiyong can’t tell if that’s from anger or something else. Seunghyun avoids eye contact and says nothing, not looking cowed—just thinking. Weighing up the pros and cons of whatever is left in his arsenal.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t fill the silence. He is angry.  
  
Even understanding Seunghyun’s feelings about being dragged into this situation, Jiyong is still hurt. He feels the aftershocks of being shouted at.  He didn’t expect that. He didn’t expect tenderness either but maybe a flame remained lit in hope of it. He didn’t know he needed it until now.  
  
His eyes water but he fights it off. He recognises his own fatigue. This time, when the smacks of hurt and fear and anger and guilt start to bubble up, he recognises all of them as his own; As two years of repressed pain allowed finally to come out because Seunghyun said ‘I already know’. Trying to keep Seunghyun out of it, trying to keep him _safe_ , that was the last bulwark of strength he had left. The last bit of his courage was in service of Seunghyun, and now it’s moot. If he can’t get these feelings under control, he will scream for his life or sob or worse and it will all come out. He won’t be able to stop it. Two years of hell come loose.  
  
Seunghyun speaks. He sounds dazed, like someone recounting an accident after the fact.  
  
‘He could have killed you’.  
  
‘So what?’ Jiyong answers. ‘You knew about this days ago, and you didn’t do anything. If he killed me today, wouldn’t you carry some of the blame?’  
  
He says it out of pettiness, in retaliation for Seunghyun’s abuse, because Seunghyun doesn’t understand the impossibilities of making the right choice at the right moment. Hindsight is different. Seunghyun chose to wait before he acted. So did he. They’re the same thing.  
  
‘You’re right,’ Seunghyun says, looking at his own palms. ‘It would have been my fault’.  
  
Jiyong hesitates.  
  
‘ _No— ‘_  
  
He is startled by a noise drawing out of Seunghyun’s chest; a heaving sob followed by little hiccups of air. Like the flick of a switch. Seunghyun _cries_. Jiyong stares in amazement. He can’t do anything else. Seunghyun is racked by tiny sobs, a hand covering his face like he’s ashamed to be doing it.  
  
_‘I’m sorry’._  
  
Seunghyun struggles to get it out. He says it over and over again.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t know how to answer him. He doesn’t know what Seunghyun is apologising for. He doesn’t know how they got from anger to whatever this is so quickly. He reaches out his hand but Seunghyun speaks before he can be of any comfort to him.  
  
‘You know, a few times I thought _something_ was going on but I never pushed it,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I should have done something. When John told me, I should have _done_ something. What have I been _doing_? Have I had my eyes closed these last few weeks? You didn’t trust me enough to come to me. You didn’t even come to me this-morning when he hurt you. You called everyone _but_ me to come and help you. I’m supposed to be your _first_ call. I’m not even competent enough for that? Jesus Christ. What good am I to you if all this can happen? If I can’t stop it?’  
  
Seunghyun lets loose another sob before reverting back to childlike hitches. Losing and regaining his composure in quick succession. He is having a crisis of heart; thinking he’s a failure for not knowing the unknowable, for allowing things to happen that were out of his control. Jiyong takes a step closer, hesitant. He softens a little at this unexpected softness.  
  
‘You have to know why I didn’t call you today. I thought I had to explain everything. All of it. I didn’t want to do that on our way to the hospital. I wanted to tell you on _my_ terms. So yeah, you were the last person on my list today. And maybe you will always be the last person on my list Seunghyun, I don’t know’.  
  
He shifts his weight, unsure what to do with his own body.  
  
‘I love you,’ Jiyong says softly, ‘but you’re the last person on earth I want to see me like this. This is rock bottom for me, can’t you understand that? I fucked up and he got me back, okay? You think I want you around for this part? I’m embarrassed’.  
  
He wanted to keep Seunghyun out of it, somewhere safe and blissfully ignorant.  
  
‘You think you should have done something, Seunghyun? You _did_ do something. You’ve been there for me, even if I didn’t let you know it. When all of this started, I needed you and you were there. You made me think everything was going to be okay. That I could deal with this. That I could fix it’.  
  
‘What are you talking about?’ Seunghyun asks.   
  
Jiyong shrugs, wishing he had said something different.  
  
‘When we went to dinner, when Youngbae and Daesung came back? Everything blew up in my face that night. When I got home, he showed me all these videos he’d taken of me. He said he knew what I’d done. He implied that if I ever saw my mistress again, he would know and he would ruin me’.  
  
‘So …’  
  
‘So I felt broken and lost, but I had to _see_ you. I sought you out and the second I saw your face, I felt you holding me together. You were upset about something that night, so we talked about what you were feeling and then we went to sleep and I was so grateful to feel that normalcy. That stuff _matters_ to me, Seunghyun. Don’t you know the only place I feel sane and safe and hopeful is in your damn apartment? Or when we’re in bed together? Not fucking, just _together_. Talking or cracking jokes or even laying there in silence. That calms me down. No matter what shit is wreaking havoc on my life, the second I’m lying next to you, that all goes away. You don’t know how much I’ve relied on that these last few weeks, how much I’ve relied on you just _being_ there when I needed you’.  
  
Seunghyun looks knocked back by emotion but then a passing thought catches in his head. Jiyong sees it derail him.  
  
‘That was the night this happened to you? That was the night this started? All of this,’ Seunghyun gestures absently around, ‘and you didn’t say anything?’  
  
‘Of course not,’ Jiyong answers. ‘You would have had me tell you _then_? With what you were going through? After promising you things were going to be okay? Should I have thrown in an aside, ‘ _or maybe not because there’s a chance I’ve just destroyed your life. Sorry_?’ What did you want me to say? I want you to be happy, Seunghyun. That’s all I want for you. If it was all going to end, I wanted to delay it for you at least. I could do that much if nothing else’.  
  
‘So, you just went home after that? Totally alone? With nobody in the world to help you? You just went back?’  
  
‘Yeah’.  
  
‘And what happened?’  
  
Jiyong fidgets and breaks eye contact for a moment.  
  
‘I was stupid. He tricked me’.  
  
‘How?’  
  
‘He told me he’d _found_ something. I thought he found the box’.  
  
‘What box?’  
  
‘I have a _box_ ,’ Jiyong answers. ‘It’s full of trinkets and stuff. A lot of it is yours. Things you gave me. Things I kept. It doesn’t matter. If he had found it, he would have known it was _you_ I was seeing, so when he left the room I went and dug out the box to make sure, but he hadn’t touched it’.  
  
Seunghyun frowns.  
  
‘He came out of nowhere,’ Jiyong continues. ‘He came up behind me and tried to take it from me. He didn’t know about you though. If he didn’t have the box that meant he didn’t _know_ about you. I thought I could protect you and keep you safe. If he didn’t get that box you would be okay. So, that’s what happened,’ Jiyong says. ‘He didn’t just beat on me, okay? We fought over the box. That’s how I got hurt. I wasn’t going to let it go. You have to know that, okay? I wouldn’t have let it go. I would have kept you out of it’.  
  
Seunghyun’s lips part to speak but Jiyong cuts him off.  
  
‘I held onto it as long as I could and when I couldn’t any more, I told him what he wanted to hear. I told him the truth. I cheated on him. I loved somebody else. I was sorry,’ Jiyong says. ‘All of that. He just wanted to punish me. I didn’t give him a good excuse. What could I say? I couldn’t tell him the truth, it would have put you at risk’.  
  
Jiyong pauses, wondering what to say next, wanting desperately for Seunghyun to understand that he tried to keep him _out_ of this, that his intentions were good. He was just trying to protect him and the illusion of stability they had built. He wanted to hold together the rocky foundations that let them both imagine a future together was possible. He wanted to prolong the dream, for one of them at least.  
  
A tear rolls down Seunghyun’s cheek and he wipes it away sadly, taking his time before answering. Jiyong poises himself for whatever answer is coming but what Seunghyun says is unexpected.  
  
‘You don’t think I would have signed away my career in a heartbeat if it could have prevented any part of this?’  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘You don’t know what’s _coming_ ,’ he answers.  
  
If Seunghyun only understood how bad the situation was, how much he was about to suffer---  
  
Jiyong stares at the ground, feeling small suddenly, like this is all inadequate. It isn’t good enough. What would he have said if Seunghyun were hearing this for the first time? What explanations would he give? With him knowing already, it feels insufficient to say sorry. He should say something more. It deserves more. Seunghyun’s life deserves more. Hyeong-bae will destroy them both and he hasn’t said anything good enough--- anything that comes close to a good explanation for _why._  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ Jiyong grimaces, swept up in the unfairness of it all, or maybe the fairness. Maybe it _is_ fair. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. ‘I don’t know why I did this to us. To you. I did all of this. Every choice I made was the wrong one. Things just started going badly, you know? Everything. All the time. Every step I took was backwards. Hyeong-bae was _good_ to me and I toyed with him. I hurt him and I had a thousand chances to avoid it but I didn’t’.  
  
Jiyong takes a breath and words pour out of him, not sure of their source or even the truth in them.

‘I felt guilty for cheating but I didn’t stop and I don’t know why. When you came back from Japan I really did hate you, Seunghyun. I hated you but when I first saw you again, every part of me was realigning itself to you. I _felt_ it. The _second_ you came back, I should have ended things with him but I didn’t,’ Jiyong says, thinking of Hyeong-bae. ‘And you know, when your grandma was sick, I held your hand while you cried. Do you remember that? I told you we weren’t friends any more but we were still _family_ , and that was bullshit. I wanted to hold your hand forever. Even if the rest of our lives were spent like that, with one of us _crying_ , I wanted to keep holding on. That’s what I wanted. All that painful shit between us? Every time I cried my heart out over you? I needed that. It’s why I kept going back. It kept me going. It was better than nothing. I would have chosen a lifetime of heartache with you over a happy life without you. I would have always made that decision. I knew that then. I knew that and I still didn’t break up with him. Why not? A better person would have done it right away’.  
  
‘Jiyong---‘  
  
‘The worst part is, I don’t even feel like that anymore,’ Jiyong laughs bitterly. ‘I wouldn’t choose a lifetime of heartache with you. I would choose whatever made you happy. I would put you before me and I can’t even do that now, when I need to, because I already made these fucking mistakes and I can’t undo them’.  
  
Seunghyun sniffs and Jiyong sees the tracks his tears have left down his cheeks, betraying his otherwise clear face.    
  
‘I’m sorry,’ Jiyong whispers, his own tears threatening. ‘I’m sorry for doing this to you. I don’t even know how long we have. A day? He’ll go the press to punish me and everything will end. Everything we’ve worked for. All of it. Fifteen years of your life all gone because of choices I made. I’m sorry. I’m _sorry._ _Please forgive me’_.  
  
‘For what?’ Seunghyun asks, voice cracking.  
  
‘Ruining your life,’ Jiyong pleads, letting his anxiety run over; these last few days of constant fear for Seunghyun’s future have done him in. ‘Don’t you understand what’s going to happen when those videos come out? Your career will implode just because you’re my _friend_. The shit I’ve done will follow you around forever’.  
  
‘I don’t care!’  
  
‘If you don’t, you haven't thought enough about it'.  
  
'Of course I have!’ Seunghyun snaps, lurching to his feet. He crosses the distance between them and grabs Jiyong’s shoulders, careful not to touch the wrist braced against his chest. ‘You think this is the first time I thought our relationship might end my career? I've known that for years. We both agreed to take that chance when we started dating. Did you forget? I made peace with that years ago. If this is the end, it’s the end. It doesn’t matter. You think I would be _angry_ with you? The other day when you asked me that hypothetical, this is what you were talking about? What did you think I would say? Did you really think I wouldn’t be on your side? That I’m not on your side right now?’  
  
‘I knew what could happen. I let it happen. I let him _do_ this'.  
  
'Let him what _? Blackmail_ you?’ Seunghyun asks, incredulous. ‘John told me you were in bad shape but this is insane. If you’re to blame for this, I’m right there with you because we made this choice together. You cheated and he got angry and decided to punish you? Fine. Were you cheating by yourself? No. I knew you were still seeing that guy and I did it anyway. I made peace with that decision ten seconds in. I didn’t care. It would be insane for me to pretend like the consequences have nothing to do with me. You knew what could happen? So did I. It didn't matter. I did it anyway. I would do it again, no matter how this ends'.  
  
_‘Seunghyun---‘_  
  
He doesn’t get it, Jiyong thinks. He doesn’t understand. He isn’t thinking about the future, he isn’t thinking about the loss, past and future.  
  
‘It was _worth_ it,’ Seunghyun says emotionally, cutting into his thoughts. ‘Don’t you know that? It was always worth it. I will never _ever_ regret making the choice to be with you, to spend _time_ with you. There is nothing I wouldn’t give up to have this with you’.  
  
Jiyong holds his breath for a moment. He feels like a stone dropped from a bridge--- he feels the long drop and weightless lurch and the sting of the water. But there’s something else in it. Something calm and quiet threatening to take over, to swallow the messiness.  
  
Seunghyun suddenly lets him go and steps away, turning his back to him. He sniffs and wipes his eyes, shaking his hands afterwards like he’s nervous, like he’s trying to shake off anxiety. When he finally turns back, his face is wet and crestfallen.  
  
‘I fucked this up,’ he cries, laughing at the misery of the situation. ‘I'm sorry. I said the wrong things today. I shouldn’t have shouted at you before. I had all this planned, you know? This whole conversation. After John told me, and I gave you your three days? I practised this big speech where I was going to say all the right things, and you were going to feel safe and loved and then I shouted at you and let you say all this stupid shit. I’m sorry. Fuck’.  
  
Jiyong stands stock still, confused.  
  
Seunghyun’s hands fall to the wayside and he meets Jiyong’s eyes, who falters under the scrutiny of his gaze. It’s like he’s looking for something, and maybe Seunghyun finds whatever that is because his face softens and he speaks to Jiyong like a parent would a child on the wrong end of a nightmare.  
  
‘Do you believe all this shit you’re saying?’  
  
‘What shit?’  
  
‘ _I’m a bad person, this is all my fault, I’ve ruined everyone’s lives,_ et cetera’.  
  
‘It’s not _shit,’_ Jiyong says, defensively.  
  
‘Yes it is. It’s bullshit. Something horrible has happened to you. Don’t you get that? This isn’t your _fault_. You don’t _deserve_ this. You didn’t _ask_ for this. You didn’t hurt that asshole on purpose. You’re not a bad person. You made a mistake. That’s it’.  
  
Jiyong recoils instinctively but Seunghyun maintains that eye contact.  
  
‘God, you are not okay. You are so _not_ okay. Do you even register how not okay you are? Do you understand what’s happened to you? What _is_ happening?’  
  
‘Of course I do’.  
  
‘Do you? Every second word out of your mouth is an apology. You’re the _victim_ , Jiyong. You’re the one who needs help. You seem to know that on a shallow level but not _really?’_ Seunghyun says, eyeing him dubiously. ‘You cheated on that piece of shit and sure, that was wrong. That was a big dumb mistake but the second he laid a hand on you, he stopped being a victim, okay? He doesn’t deserve your guilt and I don’t _need_ it. You haven’t ruined my life. Stop apologising to me for something I had an equal hand in and wouldn’t take back even if I could’.  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘Look,’ Seunghyun says tenderly, ‘I _get_ it. You were alone and you did what you had to do. You took on all the responsibility for this, so you could get a sense of control back. If it was all on you, you could fix it. If every little thing was a consequence of a choice you made, you could undo it. Right? I get it. I know you. I wasn’t there for you. You didn’t have anyone next to you telling you to go easy on yourself, but you’re not alone any more. I’m right here. I’ve always been here. I need you to take a breath and understand that’.  
  
Jiyong’s throat burns. He only takes in half of what Seunghyun is saying before he tries to block it out, part of him wanting to hear it, and the other not. He turns his head away instinctively. It’s too much.  
  
‘I’m right here,’ Seunghyun repeats. ‘You’re not alone’.  
  
Jiyong frowns, a tear rolling down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly and shrugs defensively, trying to get out of this. Trying to get away from the feelings threatening to swallow him whole.  
  
‘It doesn’t _matter,_ ’ he whispers.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘It’s too late to fix it’.  
  
‘Maybe,’ Seunghyun answers honestly. ‘Maybe you’re right. That won’t change the fact that I’m here. If everything goes to shit, I’ll still be here, whatever happens’.  
  
Jiyong’s heart breaks a little. His face crumples in sadness and he doesn’t know why—or maybe he does. He wants all this to be true. He knows that Seunghyun believes what he’s saying, but he doesn’t deserve it. Not now. Not on the eve of everything going away.   
  
‘Jiyong,’ Seunghyun continues, ‘It’s not over yet, okay? I’ll do what I can to fix this for you. Maybe I won’t succeed but I’ll try, I promise you that much. I am always on your side. I will _always_ fight for you’.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t wipe away the next few tears. He knows it’s a losing battle.  
  
‘All these apologies?’ Seunghyun asks. ‘That’s on me. That’s my fault for not being there for you. Maybe, you started to doubt me and how strong we really are, but you _know_ how I feel about you. I _know_ you do. If you need my reassurance, this is it,’ he says, framing Jiyong’s face gently with his trembling hands. ‘I will love you for the rest of my life, no matter what happens; today, tomorrow, next week, or in ten years’ time. If this all blows up tomorrow and I spend the next decade of my life fielding abuse from strangers, it was worth it’.  
  
Jiyong starts to cry openly. His heart cracks right down the middle and he cries from the deepest part of himself. He sobs like a child. He can’t get control of himself. The last two years catch up to him and cell by cell, he starts to give up. He starts to let somebody else take over. He recalls in a single moment every time he has ever looked at Seunghyun and felt that tender ache that says _this love is real._  
  
‘If _you_ spend the next decade fielding abuse from strangers,’ Seunghyun continues, ‘I’ll be there doing everything I can to make sure you live a happy life despite it. Whatever happens, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you smile. I will keep you safe. I will tell you every single day that I love you’.  
  
Jiyong cries so hard that his shoulders slump. His body lists. Seunghyun holds him where he is, careful not to hurt his wrist in the sling between them. He brushes a tear from Jiyong’s cheek with his thumb. He whispers quietly, with their faces only inches apart.  
  
‘I’m sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just scared, okay? I don’t know how to make any of this okay, and it feels like that’s my job. I have to make this okay and I don’t know how to _do_ that. I don’t know how to undo what’s happened to you. Knowing what this guy’s done to you has broken me. I never thought this could happen. I don’t know how to help you’.  
  
Jiyong allows himself to look into Seunghyun’s eyes and it kills him. It hurts him more than the last two years combined have come close to hurting him, because in Seunghyun’s eyes he sees and really _understands_ that Seunghyun is telling the truth. Everything John said when they last spoke was the truth. Seunghyun’s feelings are real. It doesn’t matter to him if his career ends tomorrow. Seunghyun smiles mutedly, like somebody helpless, because he is helpless. He doesn’t know how to cope with this.  
  
‘All I know is that I love you,’ he says, in place of any solution. ‘I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Okay?’  
  
Jiyong nods, unable to string a coherent sentence together between his abject sobs. Seunghyun’s hands framing his face stop shaking. They slide down to his neck and shoulders and one hand delicately slips his broken wrist from the sling and pulls it away from their bodies. Jiyong barely registers it until Seunghyun’s arms slide around him and he latches onto him in return. He keeps his broken wrist afloat and holds onto Seunghyun with his free hand like his life depends on it and for the first time, it really does.   
  
_I’ve ruined his career and he still loves me._  
  
Jiyong swallows that down, along with the heart-rending guilt for it, and _lets_ himself be loved because he _needs_ it. He is broken. He can’t bear this alone anymore. He needs help.  
  
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Seunghyun asks, voice muffled in his shoulder.  
  
Jiyong thinks about it. He thinks about every moment of guilt and fear and panic; every night he cried alone in the dark, or openly in the light; Every moment of stress so severe that he made himself sick over it; every time he wished there was someone on earth he could talk to.  
  
‘No’.

 

  
  
  
* * *  
  


 

An hour later, they are side by side on the couch with their feet on the coffee table, Seunghyun having finally kicked his shoes off at last.  
  
Jiyong touches his face, still swollen from crying. He cried his eyes out for twenty minutes and they didn’t move. Seunghyun didn’t try to move him, he just rode it out. Now, Jiyong feels exhausted but marginally better. Still doubting any good can come from the death knell of their careers and feeling more guilt than he knows what to do with, it’s still some comfort to have Seunghyun say resolutely all the things John said before him. Maybe, for him, it really was worth it.  
  
Jiyong wonders if it will feel worth it when his own career goes up in smoke. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken two years off, he always meant to go back. He hoped, gave up, and then rekindled that desire to work creatively again. It was going to happen when the time was right.  
  
Not anymore.  
  
He wonders about all the other ramifications. He worries about what his parents will say, his mother especially. His father will be angry but _she’ll_ be disappointed and feel sorry for him all at once, and that will be infinitely worse. What about the multitude of strangers he’ll be made to face? He wonders what it will be like to walk down the street or go to the supermarket and see the looks and hear the voices and stomach the courageous few who will outright abuse him. He’s lived through that before. This will be worse. He sighs and slumps down a little further on the couch.  
  
‘Stop worrying about things that haven’t happened yet,’ Seunghyun says knowingly.  
  
‘It’s hard not to’.  
  
‘So talk about it’.  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes but repeats some of his thoughts. He concocts and describes a vivid fantasy scene in an elevator with a random ajumma in his building who accosts him about morals. Seunghyun sniggers and says, _‘So what? How long would that last? Twenty seconds? It’s an elevator ride. Nothing more’._  
  
It wouldn’t be an isolated incident though. It would be a pattern.  
  
‘Constant dripping hollows out a stone,’ Jiyong says, quoting some Greek or other.  
  
‘I think that was supposed to be a motivational concept,’ Seunghyun answers, ‘about perseverance. It’s not supposed to lend itself to an onslaught of strangers wearing you down’.  
  
‘It’s multifaceted’.  
  
Seunghyun moves his hand on the couch so his fingers are touching Jiyong’s knee.  
  
‘It’s going to be okay. You’ll survive it’.  
  
‘Survive it, maybe. Isn’t it sad if that’s the best I can hope for? Survival. _Great’._  
  
‘It won’t be forever’.  
  
‘No. Someday I’ll die’.  
  
Seunghyun taps his knee.  
  
‘I’m glad you’re finally sharing all your morbid thoughts with me’.  
  
‘You asked for them’.  
  
‘I did’.  
  
Jiyong frowns. A wave of grief washes over him unexpectedly.  
  
‘I’m going to miss being famous,’ he says, ‘and loved by multitudes. Maybe that sounds horrible but I will. I liked my life. Not all the time, but enough. How many people get to live the life I’ve lived?’  
  
‘You had a good run, but it was never going to last forever’.  
  
‘But it could have,’ Jiyong answers, staring at the blank television ahead. ‘I could have kept going. I could have worked for twenty more years and now I can’t. All those sleepless nights sweeping up the training rooms at 2am, all those times I went hungry because there was no time or money to eat, every drop of sweat, every tear. All of it. Twenty years of hard work and it all goes away because I made a mistake. It wasn’t a _good run_. It was only a fraction of what I could have achieved. I’m not ready to give it up, and you shouldn’t be either. Don’t you want more?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, apologetic.  
  
‘I’ll have my gallery. Really, I just want you’.  
  
Jiyong frowns, knowing deep in his heart that can never be his own answer. Love isn’t everything. You need other things to sustain you. A life reliant on love alone won’t survive. He knows that because of all those times when he lost sight of everything else and let love drive him to the brink. How many times over the last few years was the only thing in his life Seunghyun? Living that way has almost killed him a dozen times over. He wants that love, but he needs something else as well. How can he survive without work? Without a creative outlet?  
  
‘That’s not enough for me,’ he confesses.  
   
‘That’s okay’.  
  
‘No, it’s not. That’s such a horrible thing to say’.  
  
‘Not if you mean it’.  
  
Jiyong turns his head and Seunghyun turns his, their cheeks against the back cushion of the couch.  
  
‘I have to go home,’ Jiyong says.  
  
‘No you don’t’.  
  
‘I do. I have to end this. I have to get him out of my house. It’s time to pull the trigger’.  
  
Seunghyun’s jaw clenches but his voice remains calm and measured.  
  
‘So call him up. Or I’ll go. I’ll get him out of your house, believe me’.  
  
Jiyong smiles, despite himself.  
  
‘You’re not coming’.  
  
‘Like _hell’._  
  
Jiyong turns his head back to the television. He doesn’t have the stomach to imagine what going home will be like, or what will happen when he gets there, but Seunghyun won’t be there. He knows that much. He feels it in his gut.  
  
‘There’s stuff I have to say to him, Seunghyun. Things you can’t hear’.  
  
Seunghyun wipes his face, dragging his fingers across his skin like a man who hasn’t slept in days. Jiyong sees him on his periphery and his warped reflection in the TV screen.  
  
‘I hate to break it to you but we’re a package deal now, and that piece of shit won’t ever be alone with you again’.  
  
Jiyong extends his good hand to cover Seunghyun’s on the couch. He squeezes his fingers.  
  
‘I have to do it on my own. For me. If I don’t say the things I want to say, I’ll never get past this. I need you to do this for me, okay?’  
  
If he can’t say the things that will come naturally to him in the moment, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He’ll never have closure. He’ll always think about how the final meeting could have gone, if only he had said something different, if only he had been allowed to speak freely. Whatever happens, it will be _private_. It’s for him and Hyeong-bae and nobody else. Not even Seunghyun. Even if he _is_ afraid. Even if it’s a bad idea.  
  
Seunghyun squeezes his fingers in return and turns their hands over.  
  
‘If you want to go in person to detonate this bomb,’ he says after a time, ‘fine. If that’s what you have to do, _fine._ But I’ll be there. If you want to talk, I’ll put my fingers in my ears but I’ll _be_ there’.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes and tries to conjure a way out of this, a way of convincing Seunghyun to stand back just a little while longer. Love me from afar, he thinks.  
  
‘Sleep on it,’ Seunghyun says abruptly. ‘We’ll figure it out tomorrow’.  
  
‘Tomorrow?’ Jiyong questions. He turns on the couch, pulling a knee up onto the cushion. ‘I have to do it today. Tonight. If I don’t go home, he’ll release those tapes. We’ll wake up to my face on every news station in the country’.  
  
‘So text him or something. Parley. One night only. Tell him you’ll be back in the morning. We’ll go tomorrow’.  
  
Jiyong huffs, exasperated and fearful. There are no guarantees any more. Waiting half a day longer feels like a burden too heavy to bear. Now that there are no options left, he wants to pull the trigger himself. He wants that modicum of control, that last gasp of autonomy before somebody else changes the course of his life. It’s important to him. He has to give Hyeong-bae permission.  


  
  
*

 

 

In the end, Jiyong does what Seunghyun asks. They can’t agree. So, Jiyong banks on Hyeong-bae’s guilt one last time and leaves a message on the answering machine of his apartment.

 

_‘My wrist is fractured. Seungri took me to the hospital. I’m spending the night at his place, okay? I just can’t do this, with you--- not tonight, I can’t do it ---- please don’t do anything tonight, okay? Please. I’ll be back in the morning, I **promise** ’._  


While Seunghyun showers, he leaves his message for Hyeong-bae, and then calls his mother but hangs up after two rings. He knows he should warn her first, in case Hyeong-bae doesn’t wait, but he can’t do it. Fatigue wears on him from all sides. He is emotionally and physically spent. Resignation begins to sink into his bones. _Que sera sera_. In his growing tiredness, Seunghyun’s blasé attitude seems kinder. If it happens …. It happens. If he wakes up and the world is gone … it’s gone.  
  
For one last night, he can close his eyes to a world that isn’t against him.

  
  
  
  
*

  


When Jiyong wakes in the middle of the night, he scrambles for his phone and breathes a sigh of relief that there are no missed calls and no text messages. Nothing from Hyeong-bae. If he had released anything, there would be calls from a hundred people. His voicemail would be full.  
  
The world hasn’t ended yet.  
  
A little more rested _, que sera sera_ doesn’t seem like such an easy option any more. His arm throbs and every few seconds there is a pain in the back of his head. He tries to go back to sleep, propped awkwardly on a stack of cushions to keep his wrist out of harm’s way, but the longer he lays there, the more awake he feels.  
  
Maybe this a sign, he thinks. Maybe now is the exact time I’m supposed to act. Seunghyun is asleep--- I could slip out of here and catch a cab, and be home and done with this within the hour. When the sun comes up, this can all be over. It’s such a comforting thought, he yearns for it.  
  
He carefully gets out of bed, leaving Seunghyun dead to rights and hanging off his own side of the bed, one leg practically touching the ground. He goes to the bathroom, stopping off in the kitchen for some aspirin. A splash of cold water on his face doesn’t provide any movie-like clarity for what to do next, so he tries to empty his mind.  
  
If I just stop thinking and walk, and see where I end up, he thinks, won’t that tell me what to do? If I end up back in the bedroom, I’ll stay. If I instinctively walk for the door, I’ll go home. Or is that a bad idea? If every choice I make is the wrong one, shouldn’t I do the opposite of whatever I decide? His mind goes around in circles. He thinks himself into corners. He almost makes himself sick from indecision.  
  
And then he’s at the front door.  
  
_Where are my shoes_ , _and my wallet? Should I go back for my phone? No. Leave it. I’ll go home. I have to. Whatever happens, an audience will change things. Whatever words come out of me naturally won’t come if Seunghyun is there_.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes and takes a moment. He lets himself think about the possible conclusions to him walking out of this door. He acknowledges that little pang of fear. After a year together, he knows Hyeong-bae well enough to guess his actions or inactions. He isn’t violent without reason. As long as he kept him calm--- but there’s no calm way to end this nightmare. With a broken wrist, how could he defend himself?  
  
It doesn’t matter.  
  
Physical pain is fleeting.  
  
He just wants this to end.  
  
He opens his eyes and stares at the door handle, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He gives up on his shoes and thinks _I’ll go without them_ but he can’t reach for the handle. It just doesn’t happen. He stands there for ten minutes until his feet go numb on the cold floor by the door.  
  
_Guilt._  
  
Guilt for Seunghyun sleeping in the other room, trusting him to be there when he wakes up. Guilt in remembering all the things John said to him before he betrayed all his secrets; about Seunghyun deserving the benefit of the doubt. Didn’t he earn that today? After a few rough starts, didn’t he say the things that mattered in the end? Didn’t he promise to do his best?  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of something else too, something unexpected. Something almost unknown to him, he hasn’t felt it in so long.  
  
_Trust._  
  
Seunghyun said it would be okay.  
  
Maybe it will.  
  
_If my decision-making sucks, maybe I should trust his._  
  
He looks to the entrance of the hallway and imagines Seunghyun’s sleeping face. He thinks about everything Seunghyun said today, everything Seunghyun has had to give up just to _love_ him, everything he is about to lose--- and without regrets. It is almost superhuman. He has done too much.  
  
_I owe him this, if nothing else._  
  
Jiyong feels the physical strain in relinquishing control, in placing his life in someone else’s hands. It grates on him, like fingernails beneath his skin creating troughs in his muscles. It feels like a crushing tension until he realises it’s the opposite. It is tension easing up. He has been tense for so long, it feels unnatural to give in to somebody else’s desires. To go against what he thinks is best, so somebody else can advocate on his behalf.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
‘Fine,’ Jiyong whispers petulantly into the dark. ‘You win!’  
  
He skulks back into the bedroom and carefully gets back in, leaning back into his pile of cushions. He huffs quietly.  
  
‘Good choice,’ Seunghyun mumbles, rolling over, his eyes still closed.  
  
Jiyong is startled.  
  
‘Jesus! I thought you were _asleep!’_  
  
‘I’ve been faking. I knew you’d try to escape in the night’.  
  
‘You didn’t try and stop me’.  
  
‘I knew you wouldn’t _do_ it. I just wanted to stay awake to make sure’.  
  
‘Well you can go to sleep now. You win’.  
  
‘Okay’.  
  
Seunghyun mumbles this last and Jiyong can almost _see_ him fall asleep right in front of him, in the blink of an eye. Like he was really waiting for the second he climbed back into bed, safe and sound. Jiyong feels protective of him, like this. He wants to keep him safe. He wanted to before as well, but maybe now he wants to keep Seunghyun safe the way Seunghyun wants to be kept safe--- by keeping his dreams alive. By letting him imagine a happy future. If he can keep that safe, maybe that’s all that matters.  
  
_‘Seunghyun,’_ Jiyong whispers.  
  
‘Hm?’  
  
‘What I said earlier? When I said you weren’t enough? I didn’t mean that’.  
  
Seunghyun rouses himself without opening his eyes, just enough to answer. It is a herculean feat, made more impressive by the confidence in his voice. He doesn’t mull it over, or stammer, or pause. He just speaks and it’s _kind._  
  
‘Yes, you did. It’s okay. We’re different. If things go south, I’ll have my gallery. I know music is your everything, break or not. I wouldn’t expect you to give it up and become a dentist, so I get it. It’s a bigger loss to you than it is to me. I’m not enough for you? Of course not. We still need other passions. I want you to have the life that’s going to make you happy. If we can fix this in the morning, we will,’ Seunghyun says. ‘Have a little faith’.  
  
‘In what?’  
  
‘Us’.  
  
  
  


 


	32. Chapter 32

 

 

  
By some miracle, Jiyong sleeps well when it comes down to it. He wakes at nine to the sound of Seunghyun making a mess in the kitchen. Metal maybe. A pan. Plates hitting the counter too hard. The usual. His first thought upon waking isn’t stress or _my life is going to end today_ , it’s _I’m hungry_.  
  
When he enters the kitchen, Seunghyun is flipping a pancake onto a plate, and it is easy to forget what is on the agenda today. Until Seunghyun asks him about it, that is.  
  
‘How do you feel?’  
  
‘I don’t know,’ Jiyong answers honestly, sitting on a stool. He pulls the plate with the pancake on it closer to him and holds a hand out, waiting for a fork. Seunghyun obliges.  
  
‘You want to eat?’  
  
‘Were you making breakfast just for yourself?’  
  
Seunghyun smiles in answer.  
  
‘No. I just thought you might be too---- stressed?’  
  
‘Not stressed,’ Jiyong answers, breaking off a piece. ‘Hungry’.  
  
He takes a bite and he’s surprised by the taste. It’s blueberry, and--- _good_. Sweet but not too sweet. The perfect texture. Not bad for a last meal, he thinks. Seunghyun works away, dropping a few more onto Jiyong’s plate and some on his own, then he pulls a stool opposite him and sits down so they’re facing each other.  
  
‘I’m surprised,’ Seunghyun says between mouthfuls. ‘You’re very calm’.  
  
‘I know,’ Jiyong answers, dragging his fork across the plate. ‘I know this could be the worst day of my entire life, but I don’t really get it. I don’t feel anything’.  
  
He shrugs. He wants to have a better answer, but he doesn’t. He isn’t panicking. He doesn’t feel sick. He is resigned to it. Or maybe it’s like death. It’s impossible for people to really grasp their own mortality. Maybe this is like that. Maybe he isn’t capable of really processing what it means to lose everything. He can’t conceive it.  
  
‘What I _am_ thinking about,’ he says, ‘is these pancakes, and since when do you make pancakes?’  
  
Seunghyun puts aside his concern for a moment and smiles.  
  
‘They’re from a bottle’.  
  
‘Which brand?’  
  
‘It’s a secret. If I tell you, you won’t have any reason to eat breakfast at my house. Then again, I won’t be around much longer. Maybe I’ll tell you in a week. I don’t want to deny you,’ he says morbidly, referring to his enlistment.  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘I don’t want to think about that’.  
  
‘Me either’.  
  
For a while they eat their pancakes in silence. Jiyong doesn’t think about anything in particular. He thinks a lot of different things. Everything but today.  
  
‘Hey, what was that about, yesterday?’ he asks, suddenly curious. ‘The gallery? Why didn’t you ever tell me?’  
  
It’s kind of a big deal to keep a life changing, life affirming decision to yourself, especially when you’re on the precipice of making the dream real.  
  
‘I don’t know. I guess I wanted to wait until it was a reality before I talked about it. I didn’t want to tell everyone and then fail,’ Seunghyun says, taking a bite.  
  
‘So why did you tell me yesterday? I can think of better times’.  
  
Seunghyun looks uncomfortable and pre-emptively cringes. He rests his fork on his plate.  
  
‘Honestly, I didn’t think you would accept my help. I thought If I asked you what was going on, you would deny it. I took you there so I could show you the future I’m trying to build for myself. I was going to tell you how hard that future would be for me if you weren’t in it, you know? Like … if you were _dead._ I was going to use that to convince you to accept my help’.  
  
‘What?’  
  
It takes a minute but realisation settles in.  
  
‘Oh god,’ Jiyong gawps. ‘Was that an intervention? Were you going to do an _intervention_ on me?’  
  
‘I’m sorry. I realised when we got there, it wasn’t a good idea’.  
  
Jiyong feels a flush of irritation and flicks the end of his fork in Seunghyun’s direction so a blueberry hits him in the shoulder.  
  
‘What is wrong with you? You were going to guilt-trip and badger me in the middle of nowhere? Talk about kicking a man when he’s down. Your future would be harder if I was dead? Like _I_ don’t have a future I want to see?’  
  
Seunghyun raises his hands in surrender.  
  
‘I know. I’m sorry. I was stressed. I had a few bad ideas’.  
  
‘Well you get some credit for not going through with it. I would have broken my good hand trying to rearrange your face’.  
  
Seunghyun snorts.  
  
‘It would have been well deserved, I’m sure’.  
  
‘Instead, you just have a blueberry stain on your shirt’.  
  
Seunghyun looks down and frowns pitifully.  
  
‘I like this shirt’.  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes and gestures towards the laundry.  
  
‘Stain remover. Washing machine’.  
  
Seunghyun sighs, pulls the shirt off over his head and trudges down the hallway. Jiyong eats the rest of his pancakes listening to Seunghyun hit myriad buttons on the washing machine. Useless at it, still. Jiyong marvels at the miracle that is Seunghyun, a man who struggles to wash his own clothes, bringing an entire gallery into existence.  
  
Seunghyun takes so long, Jiyong pulls his plate closer and eats his last pancake as reparation.  


 

  
* * *  
  


  
‘I can’t let you come with me’.  
  
In the parking lot below Jiyong’s building, Seunghyun’s jaw clenches in the car. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead and purses his lips to hold his tongue, like he knew all along that this was coming, and maybe he did. There was no agreement last night. Jiyong made the decision to stay instead of skulking off in the dead of night, but that wasn’t a tacit agreement to Seunghyun’s terms. He _wants_ Seunghyun to be here but not upstairs. Nearby but not present. How can he walk through the door with Seunghyun in tow?  
  
Jiyong doesn’t reach out for him like he wants to. He waited until the last moment to spring this on him and he knows this decision will hurt him, but he _has_ to go alone. It is too late to save himself, but he can still minimise the damage to Seunghyun. The ramifications will be different if Hyeong-bae figures out the truth, if he learns of their relationship to one another? It wouldn’t be one scandal any more. It would blow apart twice as many lives. _More._  
  
‘What do you want me to do? Sit on my hands while I wait? What if something happens to you?’  
  
‘I’ll _call_ you’.  
  
‘What if you _can’t?_ It only takes one second for something to go wrong’.  
  
Jiyong sighs and Seunghyun keeps his eyes locked on the windscreen, like he doesn't trust himself to make eye contact. Jiyong watches him in profile. He sees the depression in his cheek when he swallows and the bob of his throat. From the side he can see the exact moment Seunghyun’s eyes begin to water, and he knows that’s frustration.  
  
‘You have one arm,’ Seunghyun reminds him. ‘If something happens, how will you defend yourself? I can’t put you in that position. Don’t ask me to do that’.  
  
Jiyong feels the sting of this, but he can’t allow his mind to be changed. There is too much at stake. Across the centre console he takes Seunghyun’s closest hand in his. He squeezes Seunghyun’s fingers and holds their held hands against his thigh.  
  
‘I can’t let you go up with me. How would I _explain_ that?’ he asks. ‘What if he put the pieces together? I don’t want him to have this ammunition’.  
  
‘I told you I don’t care’.  
  
‘I know,’ Jiyong answers. ‘But _I_ care. I care about what people think of you. I don’t want to be responsible for what would happen to you if your name was beside mine on every ticker-tape news reel for the next six months. Don’t make me live with that. You have no idea how bad it could be. You won’t be able to hide in your house, you’ll be in the _army._ I don’t want people knowing this about you. We have no idea how people would treat you if this news broke the week you started basic’.  
  
‘So, what? I sit here and hope he doesn’t kill you? Are you really asking me to do that?’  
  
‘I’m asking you to trust me’.  
  
Seunghyun turns back, resuming eye contact.  
  
‘I _trust_ you. I don’t trust him’.  
  
Jiyong frowns. They come to an impasse. Seunghyun periodically opts to stare out the driver’s side window. Jiyong does the same with his own, keeping Seunghyun’s hand in his all the same. There doesn’t seem to any way of getting around it. Jiyong doesn’t know how to quash Seunghyun’s fears. He doesn’t know if they’re founded or not. That’s the problem. He doesn’t know. When he pulls the trigger Hyeong-bae will have his revenge, won’t he? Violence will be unnecessary.  
  
He tells Seunghyun as much but it has no effect. It doesn’t change his mind. Emotions aren’t rational. Break-ups are messy under the best circumstances. These circumstances are different.  
  
Jiyong’s phone buzzes in his pocket. An update for an app, nothing important. Having the phone in his hand gives him an idea though. A solution. One better than the alternative, at any rate. It is better than allowing Seunghyun upstairs to sacrifice himself.  
  
He couldn’t stomach knowing that Seunghyun was in the thick of basic training, on the heels of the biggest entertainment scandal in a decade, starring him, because that’s what it would be. There wouldn’t be a soul in the country ignorant about it. He would suffer.   
  
‘What if I call you?’ Jiyong asks. ‘Before I go in. I’ll leave my phone in my pocket with the call open. You’ll hear everything. You’ll know if something goes wrong’.  
  
Seunghyun weighs up this option. He stares at the phone in Jiyong’s hand.  
  
‘I don’t like it’.  
  
'Me either, but it's that or we sit in this car forever'.  
  
Seunghyun groans and cradles his brow for a moment, like agreeing to this is causing a physical strain. A moment later he growls through clenched teeth, the sound something animalistic. He punches the steering wheel a few times and releases his clenched fists slowly.  
  
Jiyong feels guilty but he can’t do what Seunghyun wants this time. For himself, he has to do this alone. He’ll take Seunghyun’s help if its needed but not before.  
  
‘Okay?’  
  
_‘Fine’._  
  
Jiyong takes up Seunghyun’s hand again and gives it a squeeze.  
  
‘Thank-you’.  
  
‘Is there a code word if you want me to come up?’ Seunghyun asks, churlish. He is breathing quickly from impending panic. ‘Or can I use my discretion?’  
  
‘Your discretion,’ Jiyong answers. ‘I trust you, but trust me too. Whatever happens up there won’t be nice, you _know_ that. Don’t come up just because you hear an argument. Don’t come up unless it’s necessary, unless I blatantly ask for help, okay? For anything less, I don’t need you’.  
  
Seunghyun’s jaw clenches. That depression in his cheek returns.  
  
‘I don’t like this,’ he says again.  
  
‘I know’.  
  
‘I don’t _like_ this,’ Seunghyun reiterates. ‘I have a bad feeling. Something’s going to _happen_. I _feel_ it’.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t know how to take this. Seunghyun’s never said anything like that before. He’s not that kind of guy. Jiyong feels weighted down from the guilt of putting him through this but he reconciles himself to it one final time. This will all be over soon. In hindsight, he’ll understand.   
  
He lays a hand gently on Seunghyun’s arm. He feels the tension in it.  
  
‘I don’t know what to say. You’ll know the second anything happens, if it does’.  
  


 

  
*

 

 

Before Jiyong gets out of the car, he calls Seunghyun and slips the phone in his pocket. He wants to kiss him goodbye but it doesn’t feel right, all things considered, so they just look at each other. Jiyong can see in Seunghyun’s face everything they need to say to one another, and that’s enough. They test the sound. Jiyong talks normally a few metres away, and Seunghyun gestures that he can understand his words, even from his pocket.  
  
So, they stick to the plan.  
  
Jiyong turns his back on Seunghyun and the car and walks into his building alone. The sudden rush of cool air surprises him; the eerie quiet. There is nobody downstairs and classical musical funnels through the speakers of the ground-floor lobby. It is like dying and waking up somewhere new. It takes adjustment.  
  
As he approaches the elevator, he sees a familiar sign: _out of order_. Constantly out of order, he still didn’t anticipate this. This changes the plan. If something happens and Seunghyun is still down here, it will take him sixteen flights of stairs to reach the apartment. Jiyong pulls the phone from his pocket and holds it to his ear.  
  
He hesitates.  
  
Maybe, if he has more time upstairs alone, that’s a good thing. Seunghyun is bound to come upstairs at the wrong moment, to panic and jump the gun. He’ll storm in and throw himself in front of a bullet he needn’t take. Maybe those sixteen flights of stairs are necessary time. They could make all the difference.  
  
‘Seunghyun---‘  
  
‘What is it?’  
  
Jiyong has both answers on the tip of his tongue, the truth and otherwise.  
  
‘I’m going to take the stairs,’ he says.  
  
_‘Why?’_  
  
Jiyong hesitates and makes his choice. He tells the last lie he’s ever going to tell Seunghyun. The very last one.  
  
‘I’m not ready to go up yet. I need to practise the things I’m going to say. I need these few extra minutes’.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates on the line but agrees.  
  
‘Alright. I’ll be here’.  


 

 

*

 

 

 

When Jiyong reaches the front-door he is greeted by a pang of unexpected loss. Though he has come home to this door ten thousand times, this is the first time it feels alien to him. Like the place belongs to somebody else. Yesterday, he wanted to come here and get Hyeong-bae out of his home. Well, he thinks, maybe I need a new home. Maybe this isn’t it any more.  
  
He pulls his keys out and feels nothing. No fear. No anxiety. After the endless rollercoaster ride of emotion he’s been living through for weeks and months before that, he feels nothing at the penultimate moment. He can’t tell if that’s a choice he has unconsciously made, if he switched his emotions off to make this easier, or if this is just the way things are when you’re backed into a corner.  
  
Resignation dulls things.  
  
Whatever happens, happens. This moment will be fleeting. It is the rest that counts. Everything that comes after. As he turns the key and pushes open the door, he thinks briefly about his mother.  
  
_I didn’t warn her.  
  
I didn’t warn anybody._  


  
  
*

 

 

Hyeong-bae is on the arm-chair furthest from the door. Jiyong sees him the moment he enters. Hyeong-bae lifts his head when he slips inside. It is quiet when the door clicks shut behind him. Jiyong puts his keys back in his pocket and takes a few steps toward the living room. Hyeong-bae stands but stays where he is.  
  
Stalemate.  
  
Across the room there is no light on the answering machine. Hyeong-bae got the message he left, and obviously obliged. The first thing Jiyong says is impersonal, but maybe that’s what this needs to be.  
  
‘You didn’t go to the media,’ he says.  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘I thought I owed you a day’.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks tired but calm. Jiyong doesn’t know how to take that. Maybe he knows this is the end as well. Maybe Hyeong-bae is relieved to get this over and done with. He gestures to the sling.  
  
‘I didn’t mean to do that’.  
  
Jiyong touches the brace unconsciously.  
  
‘I know’.  
  
Hyeong-bae struggles with something internally for a moment. He moves to speak but hesitates, then ultimately comes through.  
  
‘I’m sorry’.  
  
Jiyong breaks eye contact and stares at his shoes for a moment. He hasn’t taken them off. He always takes his shoes off. He lifts his head and shrugs.  
  
He takes a moment to scrutinise Hyeong-bae’s appearance. His hair is dishevelled and he hasn’t shaved since yesterday, that much is obvious. He has changed his clothes. He looks like he slept in a bed. _My bed_ , Jiyong thinks. Whatever happened overnight to calm him down, he wasn’t eaten up with guilt and pacing the floorboards at 3am.   
  
‘This can’t go on,’ Jiyong says.  
  
'No’.  
  
Hyeong-bae knows intuitively what he means. For once, they are on the same page. This conversation is the same for both of them. It ends today. All of it. The only thing left is the particulars.   
  
Jiyong didn’t plan this conversation or what he wanted to say. He thought whatever might come out of his mouth naturally was the right thing. So, he’s unsure how to say, ‘I give you permission to ruin my life,’ because he doesn’t really. He just wants the illusion of control. If the gun _must_ go off, he wants to pull the trigger himself.  
  
In stops and starts over the last few days, he has had the inkling of a desire to tell the truth. Nothing that would put Seunghyun at risk, no ‘I cheated because I love Choi Seunghyun, that guy I’ve been attached to since I was a teenager’. Nothing like that, but something like it. He doesn’t think the truth will change Hyeong-bae’s mind. Maybe, after the broken wrist and the things that preceded it, Hyeong-bae doesn’t deserve an explanation, but Jiyong wants to give one anyway. He wants his last words to be sincere, even if nothing that came before them was the same.  
  
‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I want to tell you something. After that, do whatever you want. Send those videos of me wherever you want. I won’t stop you. Let’s just end this’.  
  
Hyeong-bae looks both exasperated and intrigued, but he keeps his emotions well-guarded. He is trying to remain level headed. His posture changes slightly. Jiyong can’t read it.  
  
‘Tell me what?’  
  
‘The truth’.  
  
‘What truth is that?’  
  
Jiyong straightens his back. He keeps his free hand by his side. He wants to be an open book (excluding the last page). He wants to look honest.  
  
‘I lied to you when I told you why I cheated. I didn’t tell you the whole story. I don’t know if the truth will make you feel any differently but I think you should know it either way. If this is going to be the last conversation we ever have, I don’t want to waste it’.  
  
He doesn’t say this for Hyeong-bae’s benefit, but for his own. He wants this to be over, and to know that in the end he told the truth. Whatever happens, at least in their final moments he said something real. Having Seunghyun be privy to this conversation isn’t something he wanted but having him sixteen flights of stairs away makes it easier to bear. It is almost possible to pretend he isn’t there.  
  
Hyeong-bae sinks back down into the seat behind him and gestures for Jiyong to talk, so he does. Right where he stands, he tells the truth, for good or ill.    
  
‘When we were first getting to know each other, I told you a story about the girl I loved. Do you remember?’ Jiyong asks. ‘She left me in the night,’ he gestures with his good hand to suggest a bird flying away, ‘and never came back’.  
  
‘I remember’.  
  
‘I told you a lot of stuff about her,’ Jiyong says dolefully.  
  
Hyeong-bae knows more about Seunghyun than he could ever imagine. When they were only friends, Jiyong told him everything it was possible to without giving it all away. He told Hyeong-bae so much about his life with _the girl_ , because there was nobody else and being able to talk about Seunghyun and their life together, even using another name or no name, felt like a life preserver. Later, when they were dating, she would come up now and then. Hyeong-bae knows all about _the girl._  
  
‘I remember,’ Hyeong-bae says. ‘I had to force you to re-join society. I _remember_. Why are you telling me?’  
  
‘Because a few months ago she came back’.  
  
Jiyong takes a shaky breath after this, and Hyeong-bae seems intuitively to do the same. It takes time for the implications of this to settle in. He doesn’t understand where this is going yet. Jiyong can tell. That makes him want to tell the story faster. No frills or embellishments or drawing it out because Hyeong-bae knows everything about _the girl_. He just needs the missing pieces.  
  
‘She came back?’  
  
‘I went to work one day and she was there,’ Jiyong answers. ‘No warning. It was like she never left, except that everything was different. We didn’t talk. She didn’t acknowledge _us_ or the fact that she left me without saying anything. It was like she had lost her memory. She came back a different person, without those memories of the years we had spent together. It was like I was the only person on earth who remembered that we loved each other once’.  
  
Hyeong-bae’s brow furrows.  
  
‘You know I started acting differently a few months ago. I was preoccupied. Stressed. I started getting migraines, stomach ulcers, all that stuff. I couldn’t sleep. That’s why. It had nothing to do with you or _us_ ,’ Jiyong assures him. ‘I was struggling to cope with having her back in the city. I needed closure and she wouldn’t give it to me. It was hard to see her all the time because it didn’t make any sense to me. How could she come back without saying anything?’  
  
‘Oh’.  
  
‘I tried to get past that but I couldn’t. I really tried to focus on you and me, but I couldn’t get over what she had done,’ Jiyong says, words pouring out of him without a breath in between. ‘I needed to know what went wrong. I needed to know _why_ she left without saying anything. I needed to know why she came back and had the audacity to pretend like we were never together. I had to know. I couldn’t live my life not knowing’.  
  
Hyeong-bae leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he looks like his old self. Like they are having an ordinary conversation.  
  
‘I get it,’ he says.  
  
‘Okay. Because here’s the shit part of this story’.  
  
Hyeong-bae winces reflexively.  
  
‘I knocked on her door one day after work,’ Jiyong says. ‘I tried to get answers and she didn’t give me any. I didn’t know what else to do so I went around the house and gathered together all the things that I had left there, and I found something in her bedside drawer. There was a picture of me. Of us,’ he clarifies, ‘and it was folded up and worn. It wasn’t there when she was gone. I tore her house apart looking for clues when she first disappeared. That picture wasn’t there’.  
  
‘So she took it with her,’ Hyeong-bae cuts in. ‘She held onto it’.  
  
‘She did. Which means what?’  
  
‘She still cared.’  
  
‘Exactly,’ Jiyong says, breathless.  
  
‘So what happened?’  
  
‘I confronted her about it. She denied that it meant anything. At the same time, she told me that she didn’t leave because of me. It was some other thing I wasn’t privy too. She had damaged every part of me and when I confronted her, she just said, ‘ _I thought you would be okay’_.  
  
Jiyong sniffs, surprised that he needs to. Emotions sneak up on him. His throat dries up. A tear rolls down his cheek. He wonders what Seunghyun is thinking.  
  
‘And I realised when she said that,’ Jiyong continues, wiping his face, ‘that I wasn’t okay. _Still._ I wasn’t okay because she wasn’t a part of my life anymore. A year later, I still felt that way. That photo meant something to me too’.  
  
Hyeong-bae frowns.  
  
‘I told her I was seeing somebody,’ Jiyong continues. ‘Out of spite I told her. I told her to stay away from me and I made the choice to focus on you and me. 100%. She didn’t deserve my love. How could she treat me like that? So, I said goodbye and for a whole minute I really believed that that would last’.  
  
Hyeong-bae reacts slightly to the implication, but Jiyong doesn’t give him time to fill in the blanks. He tells him outright.  
  
‘I kissed her’.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘It was a goodbye kiss. That’s what I thought. We were together for so long, it was the only closure I was going to get. I kissed her’.  
  
Jiyong’s eyes flutter closed, just for a second, remembering what that kiss was like. To see Seunghyun up close after so long, to see real emotion in his face and to know _it wasn’t me after all_. That kiss was the saddest of his life; worse even than the kiss before Seunghyun left with a _see you tomorrow_ , because the worst had already happened this time, and when he held Seunghyun’s hand and said, ‘you can tell me anything, whatever it is, if you tell me right now, I’ll forgive you,’—he didn’t. Seunghyun didn’t take the easy out. Jiyong felt all those little hopes slip through his fingers. He didn’t think they would ever put back the pieces.  
  
Hyeong-bae shakes his head, disbelieving and Jiyong wilts, apologetic.  
  
‘It gets worse than that’.  
  
‘Goodie’.  
  
‘After that, she and I didn’t talk for a while. You and I were good. Things were getting easier. Then something happened’.  
  
‘What do you mean?’ Hyeong-bae asks, visibly tenser than moments before.  
  
‘Something happened in her life. Something bad. I had to see her and tell her I was sorry for it. I had to _be_ there in some way. I couldn’t not _see_ her?’ Jiyong explains, his voice high. ‘We were together for too long. It would have killed me to pretend I was indifferent. So, I knocked on her door again’.  
  
‘Okay’.  
  
Jiyong’s bottom lip trembles now, at the key moment. Shame washes over him anew, even knowing what Hyeong-bae has done and all the ways he has stepped over the line and tortured him purposefully. He still feels sorry for what he did next, because he knew at the time it was the wrong choice and he did it anyway.  
  
‘She said she loved me’.  
  
Hyeong-bae’s nostrils flare as if he knows what’s coming next.  
  
‘She told me she loved me,’ Jiyong continues, ‘and I was pissed off, you know? How could she come out after everything and say that to me, knowing I was dating someone else?’  
  
‘But?’  
  
‘But I loved her too,’ Jiyong says. ‘I never stopped loving her either, even after what she did to me. I didn’t want to _be_ with her any more, don’t get me wrong. I thought that ship had sailed. She and I were dead and buried. I was with you. It was going to stay that way. But I loved her’.  
  
Hyeong-bae waits, his jaw clenched.  
  
‘And--- something happened. That night, I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just---‘  
  
Hyeong-bae nods knowingly, his eyes now on the hands in his lap. He can’t keep that eye contact. He doesn’t want it. He knows _exactly_ what comes next.  
  
‘We slept together’.  
  
‘Of course you did’.  
  
‘I told myself that would be the _only_ time. I was just confused. I made a _mistake’_.  
  
‘But it wasn’t one time,’ Hyeong-bae says knowingly, putting the pieces together at last. The _mistress,_ finally revealed to him. Six months of aberrant behaviour explained in some way.  
  
‘No. I’m sorry. I was just—I was _confused,_ ’ Jiyong trips over his words. ‘It really was a single mistake until she told me why she left in the first place, because she had a good excuse. She should have done better by me but I understood it. And things changed after that. The lines blurred. When we were together, _never again_ started to seem like more than I could bear. I loved her. She loved me. What was I meant to do with all that love? I couldn’t stop it or take it back. I tried. I really did’.  
  
‘I’m sure’.  
  
‘I should have broken up with you but those things I said the other day were true. I loved you. Sincerely, I loved you and our life. I didn’t want to shut the door on that. I didn’t want to go back to a life that didn’t have you in it’.  
  
Hyeong-bae stares at his hands. They are balled into fists now.  
  
‘I just loved her too much to make that call,’ Jiyong goes on anyway. ‘She was always _it_ for me. She was the one. When you and I started dating, she was gone. It was like she was dead. I didn’t think it mattered that I still loved her because she was never coming back’.  
  
‘But she did’.  
  
‘I didn’t expect it. How could I anticipate that? She came back and I didn’t know how I could survive my life without either one of you. It was an impossible choice to make at the time. So I kept putting it off, I kept hoping something would happen outside of my control. I kept hoping that something would make that decision for me, but nothing did. I just--- kept it going until---‘  
  
‘I caught you’.  
  
‘Yeah’.  
  
Hyeong-bae lifts his head and his eyes are wet, the face below them emotionless. He looks older suddenly, like he has lived through more than a person should ever have to. Jiyong feels a pang of guilt for being able to change someone so completely in so short a time, for the worse.  
  
He hurries to finish.  
  
‘I didn’t cheat on you because I got bored of us, or because I didn’t love you. I just---,‘ he shrugs helplessly. ‘I didn’t know what to do and I made a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes, and I hurt you and I’m so sorry. If I could go back and change things I would’.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods slowly but says nothing. Jiyong fills in the silence between them.  
  
‘That’s it. It wasn’t some _girl_ , that’s all I wanted you to know. It was _the_ girl. I’ve loved her for half my life and I will love her for decades more. I didn’t even know I felt that way until I got caught up in this mess. When she came back, I realised that part of me expected us to grow old together. When she came back, I fell apart because the worse things became, I felt that future getting away from me. But I didn’t know any of this until it was too late. I didn’t understand those feelings until I had already made those mistakes’.  
  
Jiyong stares at his shoes, unable to keep his head up any more.  
  
‘I always thought I would have a certain kind of life, you know? And she wasn’t in it for a long time. I thought she and I were just that practise run in your twenties before real life begins and you settle down’.  
  
Jiyong fingers the phone in his pocket and wonders how much of that Seunghyun heard. The next part he says quieter.  
  
‘But she _is_ my future. She is the dream for me. I need you to know that, not because I want to hurt you or be spiteful. I just need you to know that this was the only person on earth I could have done this over. Anyone else and I would never, _could_ never have done what I did to you. It wasn’t some flippant choice. I didn’t get bored. I loved you so much, just not the way I loved her’.  
   
Silence.  
  
Just---- silence.  
  
Jiyong expects a lot of things to follow. He braces himself for something bad because he can’t imagine someone saying that to him. Better not to be in the race at all than to come second. Hyeong-bae believes that, Jiyong knows. He teased Hyeong-bae once after he lost a game and said, ‘second place ain’t bad’. Hyeong-bae answered, ‘coming in second place only makes you the first loser’.  
  
Jiyong wonders if he feels like that now. If he wishes it were some girl off the street, some casual vapid desire for sex that he couldn’t fulfil. This must be worse. To know that he was loved and it didn’t matter? That it wasn’t enough? Hyeong-bae stands up and Jiyong waits, crippled by anxiety. He tenses in anticipation of something, _anything_ but what actually happens. Hyeong-bae wipes his eyes, avoids-eye contact and moves toward the balcony.  
  
‘I need to think for a few minutes’.  
  
And then he’s gone. The glass door slides shut behind him and Jiyong is left where he is, unsure what to do next.  
  
He just--- _waits._  
  
  
  
  


*

  
  


  
When Hyeong-bae returns, he looks the same as when he left. Unreadable, mostly. It doesn’t offer any clues for what comes next. He was gone for almost fifteen minutes.  
  
Jiyong watches Hyeong-bae round the lounge and head back to his former place in the corner arm chair. He doesn’t sit down. He stands in front of it like he did earlier. He doesn’t say anything at first, his lips moving faintly as if rehearsing a speech.  
  
Jiyong is unprepared for what he does say, when the time comes. He was prepared for every eventuality but this one. It almost knocks him off his feet.  
  
‘Maybe I got a little carried away with all of this,’ Hyeong-bae says.  
  
He gestures vaguely around the apartment, as if to encompass _everything_ that happened here.  
  
‘I should have been the bigger man’.  
  
Jiyong is stunned. He doesn’t know if there’s more to come but he hopes so because he doesn’t know how to answer yet. Hyeong-bae relieves him of the duty. He sits down, slumping back into the chair.  
  
‘I want you to pay the rent on my apartment for another year. And I want $100k so I can get back on my feet. Do that, and I’ll keep your secrets’.  
  
It takes time for _this_ to settle in. It takes a full thirty seconds before Jiyong can comprehend what Hyeong-bae is saying. He is offering a way out. A free pass that doesn’t eventuate in him losing _everything_. All he’s asking for is money, something Jiyong is more than willing to give.  
  
‘But--- _why?’_  
  
Hyeong-bae shrugs wearily.  
  
‘I believe your little story. It makes sense, in hindsight, that that is what was going on. It doesn’t make me feel better and it isn’t an excuse. But I’m tired. I don’t want to do this anymore. I thought I could but I can’t. I don’t want to see your face any more. I want this to be over. Give me what I want and let’s be done with this’.  
  
Jiyong stammers for a minute, stunned. He wonders what Seunghyun is thinking in the car downstairs, if there was any way he could have predicted this. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility for them.  
  
‘Okay’.  
   
‘I want you to do it today,’ Hyeong-bae clarifies. ‘Now. While I’m here. I want you to transfer the money before I go’.  
  
‘Okay’.  
  
Jiyong turns for a moment, stunned. He isn’t sure how to make this happen. He can’t get his thoughts straight. $100k? Why that amount? Why not more? Hyeong-bae has to know he could have asked for more and received it. Either way, Jiyong can’t transfer that much online. He falters for a moment, thinking. He touches his brace unconsciously.  
  
‘Was it a bad break?’ Hyeong-bae asks. ‘Why isn’t it in a cast?’  
  
‘It’s too swollen,’ Jiyong answers. ‘I’ll get one in a few days. Hopefully that’s enough’.  
  
‘Enough?’  
  
‘There’s a chance I might need surgery. I don’t know. It will probably be okay’.  
  
Hyeong-bae frowns and Jiyong shrugs as if to say, _‘don’t worry about it’_. For all he knows the break is what saved him. The guilt from that may have contributed to this free pass. $100k and he can have his life back. That’s worth a dozen broken bones. It is worth the additional months between he and Seunghyun’s enlistments to have peace when they both get out.  
  
‘I didn’t mean for—‘ Hyeong-bae begins.  
  
‘I know’.  
  
‘I get angry sometimes and---‘  
  
‘It’s fine’.  
  
‘I can’t help it’.  
  
_‘I get it’_.  
  
He says it too forcefully. It just spills out. He smiles quickly and tries to brush it off again. He heads into the kitchen and stands at the bench, contemplating what steps to take to transfer a sum of money this large. The quicker this happens, the safer he’ll be. The longer Hyeong-bae stays, the more chances there are for him to rescind his offer.  
  
‘Maybe it’s always gonna be like this,’ Hyeong-bae mutters.  
  
Jiyong turns around.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘When I get angry,’ Hyeong-bae answers. ‘Maybe I’ll always---‘  
  
He pantomimes a mushroom cloud erupting from his head. It puts a bad taste in Jiyong’s mouth. He knows he shouldn’t say anything but he can’t help it.  
  
‘What are you talking about?’  
  
He has experienced it himself a few times, but not enough times for Hyeong-bae to be talking explicitly about their relationship. He’s implying there were other instances—but _what_ kind? Violence during a domestic or getting out of your car with a tyre iron when someone cuts you off?  
  
Hyeong-bae doesn’t answer but there’s something in the silence that makes the room feel heavier all of a sudden. Heavier and smaller, like the gravity has shifted. A voice in Jiyong’s head warns him away. He feels his escape route sinking into the ground.  
  
‘Never mind,’ he says quickly. ‘It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have asked’.  
  
He tries to say that lightly. He tries to brush this avenue of conversation off like he would a scraped knee, but the heaviness in the room doesn’t dissipate. Hyeong-bae scoots forward on the couch and Jiyong _knows_ something is about to happen, though he doesn’t know what.  
  
‘At the time I thought anyone would have done it’.  
  
Jiyong looks intently at Hyeong-bae as he says this, he can’t not. The way he says what he does demands attention. It is forlorn and desperate and the beginning of something that can’t be unsaid, even now before it all comes out. Hyeong-bae is going to tell a story, the way he just told his own. Jiyong feels ill from anticipation and he can’t explain it.    
  
‘They were in my bed?’ Hyeong-bae says conversationally, like this is a sound place to start. ‘Our bed--- and she didn’t look sorry. She didn’t apologise. She just told me. Confessed. And then he ran off and _left_ her. Over me, she chose a man who would abandon her and leave her behind, and then she _laughed_ at me? Like I was angry over nothing or like I should have seen it coming’.  
  
This all comes out in a torrent, jumping straight to the heart of it, so much so that it takes Jiyong time to understand what he’s talking about at all. It takes time to recall the few fleeting mentions of the fiancé. It takes no time after that to remember the first accusation of cheating between them, when Hyeong-bae asked pleadingly, _are you doing what she did to me?_  
  
Jiyong’s stomach sinks at the implications for him to be talking about this now, so close to an escape for them both. He is talking about his fiancé fucking some guy in their bed.  
  
‘You’re talking about your fiancé?’  
  
‘Why did she accept the proposal if she didn’t love me?’ Hyeong-bae asks, incredulous. ‘What was the point?’ he asks. ‘Money?’  
  
Jiyong answers with a shrug.  
  
He doesn’t know how a person cheats in their partner’s bed, or laughs about it, or is callous in the aftermath. If there was a time he could have done those things with Seunghyun, he wouldn’t have. He couldn’t stomach it.  
  
‘I was so angry,’ Hyeong-bae continues easily. ‘She was my whole world and she looked at me like I was _nothing_. It was like I was seeing her for the first time. Like she’d been acting the whole time we knew each other and she couldn’t be bothered any more. Like I was the victim in some hidden camera show. Our whole life together was an elaborate con. I was humiliated. I caught her, and she pulled her dress back on, and she looked at me like I was a tiny bug she had to deal with before she could go back to her real life. I couldn’t help it’.  
  
He frowns and Jiyong catches it. He catches the sudden shift of tone, the micro-expressions; bewilderment and guilt. Other things. Things Jiyong recognises easily because he has seen them in the mirror and taken pains to try and conceal them in himself.  
  
‘What are you talking about?’  
  
Hyeong-bae repeats his earlier gesture. He pantomimes an explosion around his head.  
  
‘I hit her,’ he says. ‘At first, I just grabbed her, you know? I wanted to shake her. I wanted to get her attention because she wasn’t really _there_ with me _,_ and I needed her to _be_ there and tell me what was going on. I needed her to tell me why she had done that, why she had fucked some guy in our bed when we were supposed to get married’.  
  
'What happened?' Jiyong asks.  
  
‘She kept smiling at me?’ Hyeong-bae answers, standing up suddenly. He holds a hand suspended aloft, to show his disbelief. ‘She said _things_ to me,’ he continues, ‘and I just …. lost it’. His fingers tighten into a fist. ‘I hurt her’.  
  
Jiyong frowns and his stomach sinks. He feels faintly ill.  
  
‘How?’  
  
‘I broke her nose, I think, and fractured--,’ he touches his cheek gently to show where.  
  
Jiyong shivers.  
  
‘Well,’ Hyeong-bae says quickly. ‘I just hit her. Until she stopped smiling’.  
  
This is all it takes.  
  
_Until she stopped---_  
  
Jiyong physically trembles, not from fear but disgust. Disgust that he could love someone so much and not know them at all, not know what they’ve _done_ in their life, not know what they’re capable of. Even seeing the rare repercussions of Hyeong-bae’s anger himself, he would never have thought him capable of _that_ \--- or of talking about it afterwards like it was nothing.  
  
There is so much about Hyeong-bae that is beautiful. He was always kind and aware. It seems impossible that he can have _this_ inside of him. That he can be one person in one moment, and someone awful the next. Like Jekyll and Hyde.  
  
Jiyong feels sick to the pit of his stomach. When did he lose the capacity to judge people? To sense things about them? What kind of world has he been living in these past few months that he could allow their life together to unfurl, when this was there between them, unsaid?  
  
‘I loved her,’ Hyeong-bae says. ‘I didn’t mean to do that to her. I really didn’t. I just loved her too much. I lost control’.  
  
Jiyong almost laughs.  
  
Suddenly, he can see himself in the fiance’s shoes. He can see the absurdity in taking apologies at face value or believing the _I love you’s_ that occur in the aftermath of violence, because seeing it in somebody else’s life is frightening. Coming out of Hyeong-bae’s mouth now, this sounds insane. He _loved_ her?  
  
This isn’t cheating and delaying the break up because you want to spare someone’s feelings. This is a different ballpark of mistake.  
  
He _hurt_ her.  
  
Jiyong feels long adrift puzzle pieces slipping into place, and for a moment he gains a semblance of clarity. Seunghyun was right, Hyeong-bae doesn’t deserve guilt.  
  
‘That’s why your family cut you off,’ Jiyong says, suddenly understanding the myriad self-pitying remarks that never came with an explanation. When Hyeong-bae came home late one night, after seeing his grandfather in the hospital, he had said _I’m a bad person, you have no idea_. ‘ _This_ was the mistake you made?’  
  
‘I was arrested,’ Hyeong-bae answers.  
  
‘ _Arrested?’_  
  
How many chances has Hyeong-bae had to reveal _this_? How many times have they come close to the truth and avoided it? If Seunghyun hadn’t come back from Japan and the two of them were still together, how long would it have been until this came up? And if it ever did, how? Like this? Or with tears and a stout promise that _I’ve changed. I’ll never do it again. It was one mistake._  
  
‘I was never convicted,’ Hyeong-bae explains. ‘She dropped the charges. My family paid her off. It was dealt with quietly, no consequences, but they cut me off anyway. They pretended like I was never there. One mistake and it was all over, my whole life swept under the carpet,’ Hyeong-bae says bitterly. ‘I thought my life was over. It _was_ over. When I ran into you, I was on my last credit card. I was going to lose my apartment. I couldn’t get a job anywhere. I didn’t want a job. I was headed towards the barrel,’ he says, placing his fingers to his temple in the way of a gun. ‘Then you changed everything. That first night in the club, I thought I could use you for money. I thought If I plied you with enough drinks and happy memories of the past, you might be generous in some way. If not, maybe I could steal a few bills out of your wallet, you know?’  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘But you?’ Hyeong-bae says. ‘You were more fucked up than me. You were in bad shape and I felt bad for you. I didn’t want to steal from you anymore, but I thought maybe I could kindle a friendship and money or things I could sell, things that were worth something, might trickle down from you and I could still benefit in some way’.  
  
_‘Jesus’._  
  
‘But then I fucking liked you and I didn’t want _stuff_ anymore. I wanted to be your friend. You were miserable company for a long time, but in the moments when you brightened up, we had fun. I had forgotten what fun was like. Do you remember that? Did you feel that too? It was something’.  
  
‘Yeah’.  
  
Hyeong-bae smiles genuinely but Jiyong can’t find anything good in it any more. He doesn’t feel the pang of loss for the good memories or the myriad moments when Hyeong-bae was everything to him, when he had tendered real advice, and cared about him, and loved him, and made his life worth living. Now, there’s nothing. This in itself hurts him. It doesn’t seem possible, or _fair._  
  
Hyeong-bae, oblivious, goes on.  
  
‘I used to dream about you at night, and I would wake up angry and punch the wall. Did you know that? I fell for you. It was like her all over again except different somehow. Different because you needed me and I knew that. I needed security. I needed someone to _need_ me. Someone who wouldn’t throw me away’.  
  
Jiyong frowns again, seeing the separate routes their lives had taken in order for them to meet in the middle. They had no chance of avoiding what they became. Both desperate in different ways. They had nobody else. Maybe the miracle was that it worked for so long, that for a while they really loved each other.  
  
‘But you did anyway,’ Hyeong-bae continues sourly. ‘After everything that happened to me, you just went and did it too. The _same_ thing. You threw me away. And it was worse this time? Worse because I didn’t think it would happen again. I thought I had a foolproof plan with you and all your problems. I thought you would love me or be grateful for everything I did for you. I thought that would keep you indebted to me, when the love ran out’.  
  
‘I did love you. I _was_ grateful’.  
  
‘Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, does it? Your love is worth nothing. It comes with a cost’.  
  
 So does yours, Jiyong thinks.  
  
‘So where do I go from here? Huh?’ Hyeong-bae asks, voice louder, revitalised after a lull. His arms outstretched. ‘How do I ever look someone in the eyes again and let myself care about them? For the rest of my life I’ll never trust anybody again. That’s on _you’_.  
  
‘I’m sorry’.  
  
‘Me too’.  
  
Jiyong drops his gaze, unsure what is left for them to say. Hyeong-bae must agree because he sits back down, in the seat recently vacated, and gestures to the laptop on the kitchen counter.  
  
‘Turn it on. Transfer my money. Let’s get this over with’.  
  
Jiyong hesitates. He can’t transfer the amount that Hyeong-bae wants online. He set up his accounts so that wouldn’t be possible; so if anyone ever got their hands on his details, there was only so much damage they could do. Anything over $20k and he has to walk into a bank physically, or call somebody---  
  
‘What’s the problem?’  
  
‘I can’t transfer this much money online,’ Jiyong answers weakly, suddenly aware of the present danger. ‘I would have to walk into a bank and do it that way. Let me call my guy’.  
  
‘Your _guy_?’  
  
‘My broker. This isn’t in his job description but he can do it. Today. Without me having to go anywhere’.  
  
‘Fine. Call your guy’.  
  
  
  


  
*

  
  
  
  
It takes five minutes to find the little wooden box his father gave him, filled when he first got it with business cards his father thought it prudent for him to have. Most went in the bin when he brought it home, but some stayed. Over the years, he has filled the small box with errant business cards given to him by people he thought might one day be useful. He has had the same broker for years but the number is on his _phone_ , and his phone is unusable. It's in his pocket, where Seunghyun can hear every word being said. He can’t get the number without ending the call to downstairs, and he doesn’t want to do that. Not anymore.  
  
Somehow, for a while there, he forgot someone was listening, and now he wonders what Seunghyun is thinking. He would have heard Hyeong-bae say those things like they were nothing. _I hit her. Until she stopped smiling._  
  
Jiyong drops the little box on the counter and pops the lid open, flicking through the alphabetical cards until he finds the right one. Hyeong-bae watches him from the armchair.  
  
‘Can I ask you something?’  
  
Jiyong doesn’t look up.  
  
‘I suppose’.  
  
‘Why did you fight me so hard over that box the other day? Why wouldn’t you just tell me who it was? Why let things get so out of hand?’  
  
Jiyong swallows hard but controls his breathing. He pretends he’s still searching for the card, flicking aimlessly back and forth, seeing the right name over and over again.  
  
‘I was trying to protect them’.  
  
‘From me?’  
  
‘It’s complicated’.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
He doesn’t know what comes over him. He realises his mistake as he’s talking, but he just looks up and answers.  
  
‘They’re in the public eye’.  
  
‘You mean famous?’ Hyeong-bae questions. ‘You cheated on me with someone famous? Someone like you?’  
  
Jiyong nods, his fingers tracing the print of the card he has been looking for. He maintains eye contact with Hyeong-bae.  
  
‘Is that it? I couldn’t understand your intricate celebrity life?’ Hyeong-bae asks. ‘It was easier with someone like you?’  
  
‘In some ways’.  
  
‘Who is it?’  
  
Jiyong can’t help a bitter smile. He pulls the card from the box and shuts the lid. He crosses the kitchen for the house phone and Hyeong-bae stands, approaching but staying at a fair distance still. His tone is playful and conversational but Jiyong knows that everything they say to each other from this point forward is dangerous, even more than the horrific things that have already been said.  
  
‘Even now, you won’t tell me?’ Hyeong-bae asks. ‘You’ll let me watch TV or turn on the radio and maybe see or hear the woman who helped ruin my life? What if i’m a fan? You don’t think I deserve to know who the love of your life is?’  
  
‘Why would you want to know?’ Jiyong asks. ‘Every time you saw her you’d feel it all over again’.  
  
‘A good point,’ he counters, ‘If you weren’t G-Dragon. You’ve been in retirement for almost 2 years and I still see your face every god damn day when I leave the house. I’ll already feel that way forever’.  
  
‘I can’t tell you, I’m sorry,’ Jiyong shrugs, returning to his position at the edge of the counter. He lays the cordless phone face-up and traces the numbers with his fingers.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘It will hurt you’.  
  
‘I can’t be hurt more than I am now’.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. It is a mistake. Hyeong-bae barks out a quick laugh in answer to it.  
  
‘This must be good. Tell me who it is. Tell me her name’.  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘Tell me her name,’ Hyeong-bae urges.  
  
‘No,’ Jiyong answers. ‘ _Drop_ it. Do you want your money? I have to make the call’.  
  
‘In a minute,’ Hyeong-bae says. ‘Tell me her name. _Tell me’._  
  
‘I said _no’_.  
  
_‘Tell me,’_ Hyeong-bae barks.  
  
The force and volume are so unexpected and sudden, Jiyong physically jumps, startled. His heart pounds in his chest. Hyeong-bae shouts a second time, repeating himself. He bellows. His voice is so alarming that Jiyong reacts instinctively, desperate to avoid it again.  
  
_‘Who is she?’_  
  
And it just …. slips out.  
  
‘It’s not a _she’_.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘It’s not a she’.  
  
And there is a pause, a stasis, like they have reached the eye of the storm and Jiyong knows that the second this silence stops, the storm will return, worse than before.  
  
‘I don’t understand,’ Hyeong-bae says.  
  
And he doesn’t. Jiyong can tell that he honestly can’t grasp his meaning, whether from shock or naivete. It doesn’t sink in right away. It needs explanation.  
  
‘Everything I told you about them is true,’ Jiyong clarifies, ‘except for one thing---‘  
  
‘It’s not a she’.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head, clutching onto the phone so tightly his knuckles have gone white. He doesn’t know when he did that. Or why he can’t let it go. The room presses in on him. He asks himself if this is the moment he signals to Seunghyun--- but he lets the moment pass him by. This is an overreaction. It’s just yelling. He can handle volume.  
  
‘The love of your life?’ Hyeong-bae clarifies. ‘Is not a she?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘It’s a man?’  
  
Jiyong nods.  
  
For a moment that compassionate silence returns and he wishes it could last forever. He wants to live his life in the gentle silences in between. He doesn’t want to face what is coming next, or does he? After all, he could have just--- not spoken.  
  
‘You cheated on me with a fucking _man?’_  
  
Hyeong-bae sounds incredulous, angry and confrontational, and then for a moment he is softer, more naïve and impressionable. Hurt.  
  
‘You said I was your first?’  
  
‘I never said that’.  
  
Hyeong-bae barks out a sudden laugh, full of vitriol. It is wrapped in jest but there is danger in it. Jiyong sniffs it out. He doesn’t have to. How can there be any mistake now which direction this day is headed in? He knew before he came. Seunghyun knew.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs again.  
  
‘Oh, but you let me _think_ it!’  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of guilt and then it disappears as quickly as it came. He never lied. This was one of the few things he never lied about. Hyeong-bae assumed.  
  
‘You’re gay?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘So what then?’  
  
‘I like both,’ Jiyong answers simply.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs again and spins with his arms out, revelling in his own feeling of righteousness.  
  
‘Yeah, you like a _lot_ of people’.  
  
Jiyong allows this barb to sting him.  
  
‘I couldn’t tell you’.  
  
‘No?’  
  
‘Nobody knew. Just me and him. I hadn’t even told my family. I barely knew you when I told you about what happened to me. I wasn’t going to tell you I liked _men_. You could have destroyed me. If that got out? My life would have been over. I didn’t _know_ you’.  
  
‘You could have told me later’.  
  
‘When? It was too late. There was no good time to tell you. I knew it would hurt you’.  
  
‘No,’ Hyeong-bae answers laconically, ‘better to cheat on me and let me think I lost out to a woman. I actually found some comfort in that. Silly me’.  
  
‘I thought you would’.  
  
‘Well, how considerate’.  
  
Jiyong releases his death grip on the phone and wriggles his fingers to get the circulation going again. He wonders if Seunghyun has sensed the danger yet. He must have.  
  
Jiyong feels a wave of resignation wash over him. He senses the turn things are about to take. He sees it in Hyeong-bae’s face and posture. He recognises the voice because he’s heard it before. He heard it before he broke his wrist. He heard it before he grabbed his neck. You only have to hear it once to _know_ it. Jiyong wilts. He doesn’t want Seunghyun to hear what comes next.  
  
Besides, when he ends the call, if Seunghyun hasn’t started up the stairs, he will. That will give him a few minutes before Seunghyun can reach him. The quicker he hangs up, the quicker Seunghyun will arrive. Jiyong slips his hand into his pocket and holds the power button for fifteen seconds, long enough to know the call is dead. He and Hyeong-bae are really alone together now.  
  
Jiyong places the card of his broker back in the box, right where it belongs, between the two names it was saddled with beforehand. Jiyong shuts the lid and crosses the kitchen. He puts the phone back on the hook. He isn’t making that call today.  
  
_Fuck him._  
  
Hyeong-bae paces back and forth across the same stretch of carpet and Jiyong watches him, detached, fully resigned to whatever happens next.  
  
‘You fucked some _guy,_ ’ Hyeong-bae asks, amazed, stopping, ‘and then came home and let me _touch_ you?’  
  
‘It wasn’t like that’.  
  
‘You cheated!’ Hyeong-bae yells. ‘You don’t fucking know what that means? You had some guy all over you then came home and---’  
  
‘And what?’ Jiyong snaps. ‘It’s worse because it was a _man?_ Better to think I had my dick in some woman than someone having their dick in me?’  
  
‘Yes!’ Hyeong-bae snaps. ‘We shared---‘  
  
‘What? _’_ Jiyong intuits. ‘My _ass?_ You’ve been with me for months. It’s a bit late to pretend you’re disgusted by men’.  
  
‘I’m not _gay,_ ’ Hyeong-bae says, dropping to a pitiful quietness. ‘I just … it was just _you_!’  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of genuine sympathy, but only for a moment.  
  
‘I thought that about myself once, and then you came along. So, let me tell you something from experience. If you love a man, you’re interested in men. Not one man. _Men_. That’s it. Get over it’.  
  
Hyeong-bae is quiet for a moment and then something in him breaks. He unleashes a scream so powerful and desperate that Jiyong physically shrinks from it. It is like Hyeong-bae unravels before his eyes, his achilles heel suddenly severed.   
  
‘Stop _talking!_ ’ he snaps.  
  
‘Alright’.  
  
‘No,’ Hyeong-bae says, pacing again, ‘No. No, no no. This changes things,’ he says, pointing suddenly. ‘You--- _you’_.  
  
He lowers his finger.  
  
‘You trapped me’.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘You trapped me! I thought--- I thought we were both …. That we were both ….’  
  
‘Straight and confused?’  
  
_‘Shut up!’_  
  
Jiyong jumps but says nothing. He frowns, unable to grasp this outburst. Hyeong-bae overcame all his bullshit when they started dating. It took him a while, and there were some rocky patches, but he got over any hang-ups about his sexuality. How can he act this way? Like this stuff matters to him? How _can_ it? They’ve been together for a year. This can’t be real. This reactionary _panic_ \--- it makes no sense. They have been together for too long. Jiyong knows him too well. He is more enlightened than this. He _is._  
  
‘You did this! Why would you _do_ this to me?’  
  
‘I didn’t do anything to you’.  
  
‘You _lied_ to me! You said you were going through the same thing!’  
  
‘I had. Just _before_ you’.  
  
‘Oh my god,’ Hyeong-bae cries, dismayed. He laces his fingers behind his head and paces. ‘What was the plan? What did you _want_ from me? Why did you start this? When I kissed you, why did you kiss me back? What was the end game here?’  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘I just---‘  
  
‘What?’  
   
‘I didn’t want you to leave me’.  
   
_‘What?’_  
  
‘When you kissed me the first time, I didn’t like you,’ Jiyong says. ‘Not like that, but I didn’t want you to leave. I needed you. I thought if I pretended to like you back, you would stay’.  
  
Hyeong-bae freezes in place and stares, dangerous.  
  
‘But I did like you,’ Jiyong continues quickly, ‘the more time we spent together. It wasn’t always a lie, when I told you I liked you. It just took a few weeks longer than I said’.  
  
Hyeong-bae is deathly still and silent for a moment, as if frozen in time and place. Jiyong’s stomach turns and he doesn’t know why.  
  
And then he does.  
  
Hyeong-bae bellows again. Unhinged, totally.  
  
‘Why do you keep _doing_ this? _Stop talking!_ ’  
  
He lunges forward too quickly for Jiyong to react. Hyeong-bae’s hand collides with his mouth, covering it, and another spins him around, pulling his good arm behind his back, twisting it up harshly until pain blossoms in Jiyong’s shoulder. Jiyong can’t even process what is happening until Hyeong-bae speaks in his ear, his warm breath against the side of his neck.  
  
‘You haven’t hurt me enough? Everything out of your fucking mouth--- you’re _baiting_ me … you want me to … to …’  
  
Jiyong panics. His whole body reacts against Hyeong-bae’s sudden violence. He is driven to complete panic so quickly, he is able to wrest his head free from the damp hand pressed over his mouth.  
  
_‘Stop!’_  
  
‘Stop?’ Hyeong-bae asks. He wrenches the arm behind his back up tighter. Jiyong winces and stands on the tips of his toes to try and relieve the pressure. Hyeong-bae pulls him back down. ‘ _Stop?_ You don’t want me to stop. We could have ended this by now, but you just kept _talking_ ’.  
  
‘You _asked!_ ’  
  
‘We both know you’re a good liar. You didn’t say anything you didn’t _want_ to say. So what is it you want, huh? You want to rile me up? You want me to get angry? You want me to ….’  
  
He shoves Jiyong forward by his burning arm, loosening his grip for one precious moment of relief before pulling it tight again. Jiyong’s mouth falls open in abject pain. His shoulder feels like it’s going to pop out. It is devastatingly painful. There is no way to break free with one broken hand and the other where it is. There is no way to step out of the position or push back without risking his shoulder dislocating. His only choice is to stay as still as possible. To beg.  
  
‘Is this what you _need?_ ’ Hyeong-bae asks. ‘You feel guilty and you need to be punished or you just can’t move on? You’re masochistic, we both know it. You feed off your own misery and when there isn’t any, you find excuses to create it. You want to suffer’.  
  
‘No,’ Jiyong pleads. ‘ _I don’t’._  
  
‘Really?’ Hyeong-bae asks, exhibiting exaggerated surprise. ‘Tell me honestly. Cross your heart and hope to die,’ he says, loosening and tightening his hold. ‘Tell me you have no desire to suffer for all the things you’ve done. Tell me. If I believe you, I’ll let you go. Easy’.  
  
Jiyong parts his lips to speak but before the first syllable can cross his lips, Hyeong-bae twists the wrist at the centre of his back and the pain in Jiyong’s shoulder becomes unbearable. The only sound that escapes him is a prolonged scream of agony. He can’t stop it, even to beg. He doesn’t get the chance.  
  
‘I thought so’.  
  
Hyeong-bae steers Jiyong by the arm held at his back and shoves him toward the nearest wall. It happens too quickly. Jiyong can’t think or plan or do anything at all. There’s just fear. He tries to plant his feet on the ground to halt their movements but he can’t. Hyeong-bae shoves him forward like he weighs nothing. His feet drag along the ground.  
  
There, Hyeong-bae spins him roughly around so his back is to the wall. Jiyong barely has his feet flat on the ground before Hyeong-bae’s forearm is pressed against his throat, with one knee between his legs to hold him in place.  
  
It is the same thing.  
  
There is no way to get free.  
  
Jiyong struggles against the pressure on his throat. Any attempt to speak or break free and the pressure becomes worse. There is no way to move without enduring more pain. There is no way to use his legs without relinquishing his balance. With only one hand, he is defenceless. When he tries to remove it from the sling, to use it _somehow_ —Hyeong-bae grips the brace with his free hand and squeezes threateningly. Jiyong halts his movements entirely.  
  
His panic doesn’t abate for one single second. Never, has he _ever_ been helpless like this. Those other times when they fought, he was able to get out of it. He could move, he could do _something_ —but this is calculated and cruel. This isn’t a brief lashing out in anger. This isn’t a pantomime mushroom cloud. This is intent.  
  
_He really wants to hurt me._  
  
It flashes into Jiyong’s mind that Seunghyun proselytising about potential murder wasn’t as crazy as he thought. Maybe he’ll do it. Maybe Hyeong-bae will take this too far. He won’t know his own strength or his limits and---  
  
Just like that terror floods Jiyong’s body, like ice in his veins.   
  
‘So tell me, what is it you want?’ Hyeong-bae asks. ‘What do you want me to do? Maybe you want me to---’  
  
He forces his forearm harder up into Jiyong’s throat, just beneath his adam’s apple. Jiyong chokes and his air supply dwindles. He can barely breathe. The physical pain is blinding.  
  
_This isn’t happening._  
  
‘It really was an accident the first time, all those months ago when I fucked you, but the thing is,’ Hyeong-bae whispers conspiratorially, ‘it’s like riding a bike. I know exactly how much it takes before it’s _lights out_ for you’ _._  
  
He presses harder and Jiyong’s eyes shoot open, reflexively. His air supply is _gone_. He can’t breathe. He digs the nails of his good hand into Hyeong-bae’s arm—his broken hand useless and immovable in Hyeong-bae’s grip. He desperately tries to knock Hyeong-bae’s arm free of his throat but gets nowhere, and with each passing second he gets tireder, weaker, more scared--- _dizzy_. It seems impossible. This can’t be happening. It can’t be humanly possible to be so helpless, to let somebody _do_ this to him.  
  
‘You don’t like it?’ Hyeong-bae asks darkly. ‘You didn’t think it would be like this?’  
  
Jiyong hears him and a second later stops fighting because he _can’t_ anymore. It happens too quickly, not like last time. No stops and starts and a slow build. His fear took his breath away before his air supply was cut. He’s got nothing left. It seems to happen in only a few seconds. The length of one thought, maybe two.  
  
He starts to pass out, and it’s not like last time at all--- this is worse. This feels like death, and he isn’t thinking about Seunghyun or his loved ones or all his regrets in life, he is thinking about nothing. There is only fear. Fear so bad it could incite madness. Fear you _never_ forget. He thinks he is about to die.  
  
_Please._  
  
Hyeong-bae suddenly lets him go and Jiyong drops to the ground, barely aware. His knees buckle beneath him and he lands on his good arm, thankfully, too gone in the moment to appreciate his luck. His head smacks against the ground and he struggles back from wherever he was, choking in huge lungfuls of air, clutching his throat in pain.  
  
He gets only one fleeting moment on the ground to think about Seunghyun. He prays to God that when he next open his eyes, it will be to Seunghyun’s face. He prays to hear his voice. To smell his cologne. To not die on this living room floor because he is too scared to use his head to fight back. Where _is_ he?  
  
_How can I get out of this?_  
  
And then his moment is over.  
  
Hyeong-bae grabs a clump of his hair and pulls him up by it. Strands are pulled clear out of his scalp and Jiyong, barely able to breathe still, scrambles to his feet to try and lessen the pain. He tries to balance on the tips of his toes but no matter how high he gets, Hyeong-bae pulls the fistful of hair higher.  
  
Jiyong tries to pry Hyeong-bae’s fingers off and gets lucky. One finger lifts, and then two and three. His hair is released--- but the second his feet are flat back on the ground, he is shoved back into the wall, chest first this time.  
  
Hyeong-bae pulls his brace free of the sling and smacks his broken wrist into the wall with such force that Jiyong chokes from the pain. A sound comes out of him that he’s never made before, pure fear and panic and physical distress.  
  
He stumbles back into Hyeong-bae’s chest, clutching his broken arm and gets a hand on the back of his head for his troubles. Like everything, it happens too quickly for him to stop it. Things happen so fucking _quickly_ he can’t predict them or protect himself. Hyeong-bae uses sheer force, from behind, to smack his head into the wall, forehead first. Jiyong catches a lucky angle so that’s the only part of him that connects, and not his nose. Still, the blow is so sudden and hard that Jiyong drops. He hits the ground. His sight goes for a moment and he folds like he’s made of paper. He stays on the ground, afraid to move or stand up or take any action at all. If he stays on the ground it takes an extra second or two for Hyeong-bae to pull him up again. Two seconds suddenly seems like a lifetime. He needs that time to stay alive.  
  
‘You don’t look at me the way _she_ looked at me,’ Hyeong-bae says, moving to stand over him. ‘Even when I broke her nose, she looked at me like I was scum. She had a smile on her face’.  
  
Jiyong wonders what kind of superhuman that girl was, to be where she was and smile. It is impossible to imagine. He shuts his eyes and wishes himself out of this. He tries to go back twenty minutes. In his head, he changes his mind about the elevator. He tells Seunghyun it’s out of order, he makes him wait at the top of the stairs instead. Close by. _I just wanted some extra time---_  
  
Jiyong whispers, nothing he can control, but words slip out while his mind is somewhere else.  
  
‘Please stop--- _please_ \--- why---?’  
  
‘Why am I doing this?’ Hyeong-bae answers him. ‘Because a man can only take so much Jiyong. Haven’t I been the better man this whole time? I let you go today. _I let you go,’_ he bellows, ‘and still, you kept _talking_ ’.  
  
There is a sudden pressure on his braced wrist. Jiyong’s eyes open and his stomach lurches. Hyeong-bae’s foot is delicately pressed against it. He is standing on it but with the weight on his other foot, careful not to cause premature damage.  
  
‘What did the doctor say? A minor break? A little fracture? We can do better---‘  
  
He begins to apply pressure and Jiyong scrambles. He reaches into his pocket and finds his cell phone. It’s all there is. He throws it in Hyeong-bae’s face and it connects. It catches him by surprise. It is enough for him to lose his balance momentarily. Jiyong pulls his bad arm free from under Hyeong-bae’s foot and scrambles off the ground in the direction of the door.  
  
He doesn’t get there.  
  
Hyeong-bae recovers quickly. He grabs Jiyong’s free arm and pulls him back, hitting him with the same phone--- there isn’t much force but the corner catches his mouth. He tastes blood.  
  
‘You know?’ Hyeong-bae postures. ‘I think I like you better when you’re asleep,’  
  
Jiyong doesn’t have time to weigh up the implications of what that means, he just acts. His gut tells him to scream so he screams. He doesn’t care who hears him, if the neighbours come or call the police, or the press knock down the door and see every little thing happening. He doesn’t care. He just needs somebody to _hear_ him. He screams for help.  
  
_Anybody._  
  
Hyeong-bae’s arm folds around his neck from behind, his adam’s apple sitting somewhere in the crook of his elbow. It is almost inconceivable how quickly it happens--- how quickly Jiyong’s screams are cut short and he finds himself again in an inescapable position.  
  
Hyeong-bae puts him in a chokehold. Not like the other times. Not like a minute earlier. This is different. Not a game. Not toying with him. This is fast. A concentrated effort. Jiyong feels it so quickly he doesn’t have time to think beyond sheer terror and him beginning to black out.  
  
‘Just a few seconds,’ Hyeong-bae whispers, comforting.  
  
Jiyong feels his body wilting, slumping--- getting nearer the ground like a marionette, Hyeong-bae supporting his weight as he goes down.  
  
_No._  
  
For one terrifying moment, he is on the edge of nothingness.  
  
And then---  
  
\--- time skips ahead.  
  
Jiyong hits the ground and he feels that. Rough. His shoulder and head smack against the floorboards and he feels that too, but from a distance. Like he’s somewhere else. He hears Hyeong-bae but can’t open his eyes. He doesn’t gasp for air like earlier. This is different. He is barely aware. It takes time to crawl back.  
  
_‘Who the---‘_  
  
Hyeong-bae’s voice.  
  
A pause.  
  
Jiyong tries to understand these words in context but he can’t make sense of them, can’t open his eyes, can’t talk, can’t---  
  
‘You?’ Hyeong-bae asks, incredulous. ‘Oh, it’s _you._ You’re _the guy?_ What a---‘  
  
And then he _stops_ talking. There’s movement from somewhere else in the apartment and a heavy sound and then Hyeong-bae makes a noise of surprise. Feet. A stumble.  
  
_Seunghyun._  
  
Jiyong feels hands on his face and he knows they’re not Hyeong-bae’s. He opens his eyes but only a crack. He can only see colour--- skin. A face.  
  
‘Jiyong? Hey, open your eyes. Come on—‘  
  
_Seunghyun._  
  
His hands are wrenched away and though he can barely put his thoughts together, he knows Hyeong-bae is responsible for it. Jiyong rolls onto his side, his open eyes so blurry and unclear, he can only see shapes and colours. The world spins. It is enough to see Hyeong-bae and Seunghyun together. He can see the shape of them. He sees the size disparity clearly for the first time, side by side. Seunghyun’s body seems unforgivably small suddenly. How can he come out of this okay? He has to get out.  
  
Jiyong tries to say something but can’t. He tries to warn Seunghyun to _get out_ , that this is an unwinnable fight. His own wasn’t even a fight. It was just domination. _Look what he’s done to me._ Even if he had both arms, could he have done anything? It all happened so quickly. He underestimated him.   
  
Then they’re gone, Seunghyun and Hyeong-bae both. Jiyong is too dazed and dizzy to follow them. He hears them though, both voices raised. Furniture is knocked. There is the infrequent sound of fists connecting. Other sounds too that he can’t identify. He wants to be sick. Every time he moves his eyeballs, his stomach lurches. He manages to get onto his hands and knees but throws up before he can move. Right where he is, for a moment he is sick on the ground beneath him.  
  
When his stomach stops seizing, he crawls on his elbows, with tunnel vision, to the kitchen. It is only a few feet but it feels like 30 metres. He presses his back against the cabinets, out of sight. He _breathes._ He needs to do something but he is dazed. He can’t move. He is _scared._ His body shuts down. His heart races.  
  
Jiyong shuts out the voices and noises behind him and closes his eyes, his body trembling. He can’t string together coherent thoughts. He can’t make sense of anything. The only thought present in his mind at all: _no, no, no, no_. He only hears _words_ again when Hyeong-bae’s voice filters through the fog, so clearly and loudly and _crisp_ that Jiyong fears he’s standing right beside him. His stomach lurches and his eyes flash open.  
  
Suddenly … he feels like himself again, shocked back into his body.  
  
Hyeong-bae isn’t in the kitchen.  
  
Jiyong crawls to the edge of the kitchen counter and looks around it. His eyes still a little blurry, there is more clarity now. His vision clears slowly. Seunghyun is on the ground, on his back, his hands drifting over his face, pained, in shock. Hyeong-bae is standing over him – hair tousled, a streak of blood running across his face. From what of Seunghyun Jiyong can see, Seunghyun looks worse off.  
  
His heart pounds in panic and fear for him.  
  
He crawls a little way out from behind the counter.  
  
‘He chose you? Over _me?_ Look at you,’ Hyeong-bae says to Seunghyun. ‘You’re weak. Like him’.  
  
‘Fuck you’.  
  
‘Fuck me? That’s rich. You fucked _him_ knowing he was mine’.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Seunghyun answers, breathing heavily. ‘I did. I didn’t think twice about it. Didn’t give a fuck about you. Still don’t’.  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs deeply.  
  
‘It must eat you up inside,’ Seunghyun smiles from the ground. ‘All that time you were together, all he cared about was me. Every time you touched him he must have imagined my face to get through it’.  
  
Hyeong-bae frowns, his lip curls.  
  
Jiyong crawls a little further forward. He tries to say something. He whispers Seunghyun’s name but his voice isn’t his voice. Barely a sound comes out. Just an inaudible whisper, raspy. Unrecognisable. What is Seunghyun doing talking to Hyeong-bae like that, in the position that he’s in? Is he fucking crazy? As if proving him right, Seunghyun continues--- he _talks_. He taunts him. From the ground, vulnerable and in danger, Seunghyun baits him.  
  
‘He told me, you know, how good it felt being fucked by me, after all those disappointing months with you fumbling and sof—'  
  
_‘Shut up’._  
  
Hyeong-bae stamps a foot down over Seunghyun’s stomach and Seunghyun wheezes, visibly in pain. Despite that, he continues. He says things he would _never_ say. Things come out of his mouth like someone else has control of him.    
  
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to everyone. Sometimes you just can’t perform’.  
  
‘I said _shut up!’_  
  
Hyeong-bae moves his foot to Seunghyun’s chest and suddenly there’s a flurry of motion. Jiyong barely understands it. Seunghyun grabs Hyeong-bae’s ankle and uses his body weight to swing his hips to the side and roll over, sending Hyeong-bae toppling down on top of him.  
  
Seunghyun slips free from beneath him and turns the tables on him. He reverses their positions so he’s sitting astride Hyeong-bae and he _hits_ him. A few times in quick succession, Seunghyun punches him in the face to quiet him down, to make sure he won’t use his greater strength to get free. Seunghyun _stuns_ him and it works.  
  
Jiyong watches, trying hopelessly to catch up.  
  
‘You get riled up that easy? A few gibes about your dick?’ Seunghyun asks. ‘How predictable. You think he even _talked_ to me about you? He _didn’t_. You weren’t that important’.  
  
Hyeong-bae growls and tries to throw Seunghyun off but Seunghyun hits him again. Even from across the room, Jiyong knows the moment Hyeong-bae’s nose breaks. He can tell from the noise Hyeong-bae makes and the way his voice changes.  
  
‘You know, I _was_ sorry,’ Seunghyun answers, spitting blood onto the floor beside Hyeong-bae’s head. ‘All those times we spent together, knowing he was still seeing you? I felt guilty. I did’.  
  
Hyeong-bae tries to roll again but Seunghyun grabs his collar and shoves him back down.  
  
‘But the second you laid a hand on him? I got over it,’ he spits out. ‘You’re trash. How many times? How many times did you do it?’  
  
Hyeong-bae laughs, his voice altered by the break.  
  
‘Why?’ he asks. ‘You gonna hit me double?’  
  
‘And then some’.  
  
Hyeong-bae sniggers and the sound sends a chill down Jiyong’s spine. Suddenly, he can see the rest of this play out in his head. The way Seunghyun baited Hyeong-bae to get him to make a mistake, to get the upper hand, Hyeong-bae will do the same. They will taunt and bait each other until one of them takes it too far and the other ends up dead. Proving him right, Hyeong-bae’s answer is unconscionable.  
  
‘Let me think …. Must be dozens’.  
  
Jiyong tries to speak again, tries to tell Seunghyun not to play this game, _don’t fall for this._ His voice comes out louder this time but he doesn’t know if Seunghyun hears him.  
  
_‘Seunghyun--- don’t’._  
  
He tries to get to his feet but he isn’t able to. The most he can manage is his hands and knees, and even that is a struggle with his broken wrist. Hyeong-bae continues, his voice so full of venom it is hard to believe it is coming from him at all. He wants Seunghyun to lose control.  
  
‘He just has the softest skin, you know? Well of course _you_ know. It’s so soft. I liked seeing it change colour’.  
  
Seunghyun takes the bait. He can’t not. He hits him in the face three times in quick succession and Hyeong-bae’s head raises off the ground. He chokes. There is a wet sound coming from his throat. Jiyong crawls forward. It looks like Hyeong-bae is coughing up blood, there is so much of it in his mouth. His lip is split. Maybe he bit his tongue too.  
  
‘Say one more thing, I swear to God,’ Seunghyun hisses through grit teeth.  
  
‘That pretty little neck of his,’ Hyeong-bae continues, ignoring the threat. He is quieter now, his words running into one another. Drowsy. ‘It felt so good to wrap my hands around it’.  
  
Seunghyun punches him again and the sound makes Jiyong sick. From his new position, he can see the blood on Seunghyun’s fist. There is so much of it. It seems impossible for there to be so much---  
  
‘Seunghyun! _Stop!’_  
  
Seunghyun hears him this time. He twitches but doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t stop. He keeps his focus on Hyeong-bae, falling for his trap. His lies. He takes the bait every time.  
  
‘I’ll miss it when he’s gone,’ Hyeong-bae whispers, blood bubbling through his teeth. ‘The way he begged for it. I think he got off on it’.  
  
Seunghyun punches him again _and again and again_ and Jiyong shouts as loud as he can bear, which isn’t much. His voice is raw, changed. Gravelly. It hurts to speak, but he crawls the distance between them and drags himself over Seunghyun’s back.  
  
‘Stop! _Stop!’_  
  
Seunghyun pauses his arm in mid-air and Jiyong lays his free hand over Seunghyun’s bloody fist, trying not to look at Hyeong-bae’s face beneath him. It is almost unrecognisable. He lowers his voice and speaks into Seunghyun’s ear.  
  
‘Please _stop_. That’s enough. You’ll _kill_ him’.  
  
‘He deserves it,’ Seunghyun answers, keeping his fist poised in the air.  
  
_‘Seunghyun’._  
  
Jiyong lets a sob escape him, a tear rolling down his cheek, from what he can’t say. Stress. Pain. Things beginning to catch up with him. The enormity of what is going on. His escape. The sight of Seunghyun about to kill somebody because he has lost control. All of it. He sinks back to the ground and crawls back a few feet, using his feet to push himself back. There is blood down the front of his sweater and on his palm from where he held Seunghyun’s fist. He wipes his hand on his pants and it leaves a stain.  
  
Hyeong-bae speaks and Jiyong makes eye contact with him. His face looks different. It is hard to tell how much of that is just the blood--- and how much of it will still be there when that gets wiped away. Like this, somehow, Jiyong can see the face underneath of the guy who saved his life. The guy who held him at night and took care of him when he was sick. The dissonance makes him sick. He wants to throw up again.  
  
‘He’s so sensitive, our boy,’ Hyeong-bae whispers.  
  
Seunghyun yanks his face back to him and holds a pointed finger in his face.  
  
‘Don’t look at him. This is your one chance,’ he threatens, bending close. ‘You walk out of here right now and you never come back. We don’t hear from you or see you ever again. You don’t tell anybody _anything_ about Jiyong or your fucking life together. Not one thing to put him at risk. You say _one word_ and you’ll regret it’.  
  
‘Oh?’ Hyeong-bae opens his swelling eyes as wide as he can, in mock surprise. ‘How are you going to stop me? Huh? What are you gonna do? Kill me?’ he laughs quietly, but it doesn’t come out that way. He is too injured now. Every breath rattles.  
  
Jiyong’s eyes move to Seunghyun’s face and he is startled by what he finds there. It is something he’s never seen before. He looks like a different person. The words that come out of his mouth in answer are so cold and clear, they send a shiver down his spine. Seunghyun has perfect clarity.  
  
‘No,’ he says calmly. ‘I won’t kill you. I have a big, long life ahead of me, and I intend to enjoy it, but you know what I have? Money. I have a lot of money, and there’s nothing you can’t buy for the right price. So, I won’t kill you,’ he says. ‘I’ll pay someone else to do it’.  
  
Hyeong-bae moves to laugh but something stops him. He hesitates and Seunghyun continues, smoothing the collar of Hyeong-bae’s shirt suddenly, as if getting him ready for a big event or fixing a tie.  
  
‘I’ll have it look like an accident,’ Seunghyun says. ‘A car accident maybe. Would you like that? Perhaps you stumbled drunkenly into traffic. That happens all the time. Or maybe you committed suicide like you should have done a long time ago before you wasted everyone’s time. Another loser hanging by a rope? Who cares. You’re _nothing._ When you’re dead, you’ll be _nothing._ So that’s your choice,’ Seunghyun says. ‘You go be nothing quietly, far away from here, or you disappear one day and nobody misses you. I won’t hesitate. If you harm him again in any way, you will suffer for it. I promise you’.  
  
Hyeong-bae says nothing. He swallows hard and chokes on some blood. Seunghyun pats his chest.  
  
‘Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’  
  
Jiyong watches, amazed, as Hyeong-bae capitulates. He nods, visibly shaken. It would seem like a joke for the tables to turn so quickly, with only a few outlandish words but the fear on Hyeong-bae’s face is real. Jiyong knows because he feels it too. Seunghyun isn’t making an idle threat. He is convincing because he _means_ it.    
  
‘I’m going to let you up now,’ Seunghyun says, ‘and you’re going to walk out that front door and never look back. You don’t get to collect your things. Whatever belongs to you in this apartment is gone. Forget it. You understand? When you’re on your feet, you have ten seconds to be out of this apartment and down those stairs or you’ll be living on borrowed time. I promise you’.  
  
Hyeong-bae nods, and Seunghyun crawls off him. Jiyong flinches, expecting a sudden outburst of violence, for Hyeong-bae to surge up and take his revenge, but he doesn’t. Seunghyun holds a hand out and Hyeong-bae takes it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He is unsteady and takes a few quick steps to the side, unbalanced. Seunghyun steadies him. Hyeong-bae looks his way and Seunghyun snaps his fingers to attention.  
  
‘I said don’t look at him,’ he says. ‘Can you walk? Wipe off your face before you leave. You’re a mess’.  
  
Hyeong-bae wipes his face with the inside of his shirt. A dark red spreads, staining it from the inside. With some of the blood cleared, the damage to his face becomes more visible. His nose is misshapen and there is swelling already present, changing his face entirely. It is shocking.   
  
Seunghyun directs him in a wide circle around Jiyong on the floor, making sure Hyeong-bae can’t get near him, can’t even _see_ him. Jiyong hears him though. He hears the stumbling. Hyeong-bae can’t walk straight. He needs help. Seunghyun hit him _so many times._  
  
Jiyong hears the front door open and Seunghyun’s voice, low but still audible in the otherwise silent apartment.  
  
‘One single word, you understand me? I will _find_ you. One - single - word’.  
  
He punctuates the last with so much sincerity, Jiyong quakes for hearing it. As if he’s the one the threat is directed at.  
  
And then Hyeong-bae is gone.  
  
Just like that.  
  
That whole life---  
  
_\-- over._  
  
Jiyong stares at the ground, in shock, his mind blank.  
  
In only a few seconds Seunghyun is back. He quickly sinks to his knees in front of him and reaches out but Jiyong flinches and pulls away from his touch, not knowing why. He looks at the blood on Seunghyun’s hand and Seunghyun follows his gaze, withdrawing it. He tries to wipe his hand on his shirt but the blood stains everything.  
  
Jiyong shifts his gaze to the spot where Hyeong-bae lay only moments ago. Where Seunghyun, the love of his life, the person he knows best on this earth, became somebody else. Seunghyun knelt in that spot, above the smears of blood left there now, and threatened to have somebody killed.  
  
‘I didn’t mean it,’ Seunghyun whispers quietly. ‘That stuff I just said … I didn’t mean it … ‘  
  
Jiyong looks back at him. He wants to grab his hand and say, _I know, it’s okay_ , but he can’t because he knows better.  
  
‘Yes, you did’.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and he stares at the ground beneath his knees. Jiyong looks at his face, cataloguing every injury. There is a graze above his eye, and his lip is split somewhere. There is too much blood to know exactly where. There is a red mark at the side of his cheek that will quickly bruise. Seunghyun doesn’t say anything in answer. They both know he meant what he said. Suddenly, after a lifetime of fairness and control, the universe has shaken, like a part of Seunghyun has come loose and can never be put back. In every moment going forward, this will always be there. It can’t be undone. The capacity for murder. Unequivocal. Not hypothetical any more, or a childish game in a car.  
  
Jiyong remembers Seunghyun’s ease, a lifetime ago, saying he would hit a magic button on a nondescript box that would kill a stranger to save his life. It was an arbitrary question Jiyong asked a lot of people over the years but Seunghyun answered the fastest. And he didn’t mean it then--- Jiyong knows now, looking at him. Before this moment, Seunghyun didn’t think for one second he had such a capacity for violence. This has shocked him. He has learned something ugly about himself.  
  
But maybe he should have known. Maybe they both should have known. You don’t try to kill yourself the way Seunghyun had tried it, without being capable of brutal things. He had stepped into traffic and closed his eyes behind the wheel of a car. Seunghyun has always been capable of violence, this is just the first time he’s directed it at someone else.  
  
Jiyong’s stomach lurches.   
  
He barely gets to his knees in time before he’s throwing up again, then dry heaving. He feels clammy and the room spins. Everything slows down and goes quiet. It feels like he can’t breathe. Suddenly, there are arms under his shoulders, from behind, and he jumps but Seunghyun talks to him--- strange, tinny, like his voice is coming from somewhere else.  
  
‘It’s me. It’s just me … let me get you up … ‘  
  
Jiyong is dragged to his feet but he can’t hold himself up, so Seunghyun has to use his own strength to move them both, Jiyong ineffectually stumbling along, both legs giving way beneath him after a few steps. It’s like he has no control over his body any more. The next thing he knows, he’s on the toilet with the lid down and Seunghyun is crouched in front of him with a wet cloth, wiping his mouth and his forehead and the back of his neck.  
  
‘Hey … look at me’.  
  
Jiyong can’t do that but he hears Seunghyun’s voice and _murder threat aside_ , it helps calm him down.  
  
‘You’re okay. Everything’s okay. Try and breathe. Slowly. Five in, five out’.  
  
Jiyong does his best.  
  
Seunghyun tries to touch his face but he flinches again. He has to force himself _not_ to.  
  
_‘Sorry—‘_  
  
‘No,’ Seunghyun answers. ‘I should have asked first. Can I touch your head? You have a red mark--- can I---‘  
  
‘Okay’.  
  
Seunghyun’s fingers gently prod at his forehead and Jiyong winces from the pain. He has a headache that is almost blinding.  
  
‘What happened? You’re getting a fucking egg up here. He hit you?’  
  
‘I hit the wall’.  
  
‘Did you black out?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘Did you see stars? Or black or white?’  
  
‘I think so’.  
  
Seunghyun exhales slowly, a shaky breath.  
  
‘Okay. You probably have a concussion. I have to take you to the hospital’.  
  
Jiyong shakes his head to disagree but Seunghyun steamrolls over him, he doesn’t give him the chance to say no. Jiyong doesn’t have the energy to sustain an argument anyway. He is only half present in this moment. He feels like half of him is somewhere else. It is unsettling.  
  
_What’s going on?_  
  
‘Are you hurt anywhere else? What happened? I need you to tell me what happened before I came in’.  
  
‘My arm,’ Jiyong whispers.  
  
‘Which one?’  
  
Jiyong wriggles the fingers on his braced hand and Seunghyun grimaces.  
  
‘You think he made it worse?’  
  
‘I don’t know’.  
  
‘What else?’  
  
Jiyong’s face crumples. His shoulders list forward. Seunghyun holds him in place. He rests a hand on the back of his head and whispers in his ear.  
  
_‘It’s okay’._  
  
Jiyong touches his throat with his good hand.  
  
Seunghyun holds his shoulders tightly.  
  
‘Yeah, I saw that part’.  
  
‘He did it twice,’ Jiyong whispers.  
  
Seunghyun gently touches Jiyong’s throat, with a miserable look on his face. When he’s done inspecting him and is confident that nothing is life threatening he sinks back, his ass on his feet. He sits back on the ground and takes a few heavy breaths.  
  
‘Are _you_ okay?’ Jiyong asks quietly.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Seunghyun answers, too quickly. ‘Of course, I’m fine’.  
  
Jiyong smiles weakly because he’s glad. He can’t feel it--- or anything—but he knows that’s good news. He wants Seunghyun to be okay, and he doesn’t look okay. He thinks he might be lying but he can’t press him or inspect his body in return, because he can’t do anything. He can’t move or talk or----  
  
He just hangs his head and tries to breathe.  
  
Seunghyun does the same.  
  
For a while, they don’t move or speak.   
  
  
  


*  


 

Jiyong is the one who eventually breaks the silence. Guilt consumes him. It covers over all the other things and he is grateful for that, because guilt he is used to. He can’t deal with the other things. He can’t deal with the fear and the pain. He _can’t_. When the first inkling of guilt drives itself into his head, he latches onto it for dear life and focusses on that and nothing else. He forces the rest away.  
  
‘I can’t do this,’ he says quietly, his voice still foreign to him. Rough and sore.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘We can’t let him go. He’ll do this to somebody else. You heard what he said. He’s already done this before. I can’t let him’.  
  
Seunghyun exhales heavily and redistributes his weight, getting back onto his knees in front of him. He slips his hands into his. He holds them gently so Jiyong can pull away at any time. He is careful about it. When he answers, Seunghyun’s voice is calm and measured. It is in stark contrast to the blood on his face and his reddening skin.  
  
‘What do you want to do? You want to go to the police?’  
  
‘Shouldn’t I?’  
  
‘If you want to do that, I’ll support it. I’ll do whatever you want to do but---‘  
  
‘But what?’  
  
‘I don’t think going to the police will change anything,’ Seunghyun answers honestly. ‘I think you know as well as I do that he would walk out of that building with a 12 week anger management course, and that would be it. You know how things work here’.  
  
Jiyong sniffs.  
  
‘If you go to the police, you’ll have to tell them everything,’ Seunghyun continues. ‘They’ll chalk today up to a domestic violence charge, and he’ll get away with it. Bad enough if you were a woman but to be _you?_ In the kind of relationship this was? They wouldn't help you. I don’t see any way that he would suffer as much as you would, and he certainly wouldn’t be kept off the streets so that he couldn’t do this to other people. It just wouldn’t happen. I _know_ ’.  
  
‘How do you know?’  
  
‘Because I know people who have--- had to _live_ through this. There’s no justice here. Not for this,’ Seunghyun says emphatically. His lips curl down at the edges. An unconscious frown he doesn’t know he has.  
  
_‘Who?’_  
  
Seunghyun breaks eye contact for a moment but picks it back up, taking a little breath before answering.  
  
‘My mother’.  
  
‘Oh,’ Jiyong whispers, his heart breaking. ‘ _Seunghyun …’_  
  
‘Not just her,’ he says quickly. ‘Friends too. You find things out about people. So, I wouldn’t. I’ll support whatever decision you make but I wouldn’t go to the police. I don’t think it’s worth it. I really don’t. If I thought for one second that doing that would help another person in the future be safe from him, I would encourage it but---‘  
  
Jiyong nods, resigned to the truth of what Seunghyun is saying.  
  
He knows too.  
  
He has heard things---  
  
He _knows._  
  
It’s pointless.  
  
Seunghyun squeezes his hands.  
  
‘We need to get you out of here. Do you feel up to moving? I need to get you to a hospital and then you need to go somewhere else, just in case he comes back. Home with me or--- wherever you want to go, okay? Pack a bag. Wherever you feel safest, I’ll take you’.  
  
‘I’ll go with you’.  
  
  


  
* * *

  
  
  
  
  
After that, on the way to the hospital, Jiyong refuses to go. He panics. What if they can tell what happened to him? It will be too obvious. He can’t be seen. He can’t walk into a building with hundreds of people looking in his direction. He can’t _do_ it.  
  
Seunghyun fights him on it but capitulates. They make a compromise. He drives Jiyong to an after-hours clinic and waits in the car. He says, _‘If i go in with you, looking like this, they’ll know it was a fight. They’ll question you. If you go in alone, you can pretend it was an accident. It’s up to you---_ ‘ so Jiyong goes in alone.  
  
They shine a light in his eyes and X-ray his arm and an hour later he has the all clear with instructions to rest easy.  
  
In the car, Seunghyun asks him ‘are you okay?’  
  
‘Physically’.  
  
‘And the rest?’  
  
Jiyong stares out the passenger side window and slumps down in his seat.  
  
‘I don’t feel anything’.  
  
Seunghyun sighs in answer. There is nothing he can say. He starts the car and they pull out of the parking lot, but Jiyong hears him under his breath, answer anyway.  
  
_‘You will’._  
  
And he’s right.  
  
When they reach Seunghyun’s apartment, Jiyong is okay one moment and not the next. He feels nothing and then he’s crying his lungs out. He switches from one extreme to the next. It happens a dozen times. His emotions switch off and on with such intensity that he crawls into the spare bed at 6pm and goes to sleep, exhausted.

 

  
* * *  


  
  
Over the next three days, neither of them leave Seunghyun’s apartment. They cohabitate but move around each other like ghosts. They barely speak. The first night, Jiyong sleeps in the spare room and Seunghyun doesn’t question it. Jiyong wakes a dozen times in the night. He has nightmares. He re-lives what happened. The third time he wakes in fear, there is a glass of water on the bedside table and some painkillers waiting.  
  
On the second night, Jiyong can’t sleep in the spare room. His mind races and then goes blank intermittently until he’s thrumming with frustration and fatigue and fear. He is too calm or can’t _be_ calm. There is no healthy medium. He crosses the length of Seunghyun’s apartment to his bedroom and finds him asleep, so he slides in beside him. Somehow, this quiets the noise in his head and calms him long enough to sleep. When he wakes, Seunghyun doesn’t comment on his being there.  
  
They eat breakfast together on the third day but don’t talk. Jiyong turns on the television and they watch a cartoon, trapped in an ambulatory nightmare, always moving here and there to avoid each other or avoid talking, but never getting anywhere. His jaw has bruised and there is a faint purple in his hairline but he got off easy. Seunghyun’s cheek quickly swells and purples, his lip swells, his left eye swells. He winces when he bends and cups his side. Just bruised, he says, not broken.  
  
On the third night they go to bed at the same time on their respective edges of the mattress, facing their respective walls, afraid of what will happen if they look each other in the eye. Afraid of what might come out.  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t know how to act. He doesn’t know the right way to deal with the situation they have just come out of. He doesn’t know the right things to say. So, he does nothing. He watches. He tries to read the cues and act accordingly. He does his best.  
  
Jiyong wants to make it easier on him but he can’t. He can’t unpack what happened. He can’t arrange it in his head so it makes sense. If he tries to think about it, he falls apart, so he tries to shut it off. He tries to get his fits of crying under control. He sees Hyeong-bae at night when he closes his eyes, so he keeps his eyes open until he passes out from fatigue. When feelings of impotence and helplessness start to rise in him, he lashes out. He breaks things. The sudden rush of adrenaline takes the place of vulnerability. Little solutions. He does what he has to.  
  
He prefers not feeling to feeling. Over the years, he has become good at working the switches in his mind. It takes time but eventually he can turn those switches off. No fear. No panic. Gone.  
  
_Nobody tried to kill me.  
  
Seunghyun didn’t threaten to have somebody killed._  
  
_I’m okay._  
  
It is a lie but he isn’t ready for the truth.

  
  
  
  
  
_*_  


  
  
Jiyong wakes in the middle of that third night and the bed is divested of Seunghyun’s body. His side of the mattress is cold. Jiyong stares at the ceiling for a time, thinking, letting a repetitive _thud_ change the colour of his thoughts. His heartbeat adapts to it. It takes time to realise it’s not in his head, but a real sound coming from somewhere else in the apartment.  
  
He pads through the dark, feet sticking to the chill floorboards of the kitchen until he knows the sound and where it’s coming from. He heads toward it but waits outside the door for a time, listening to the rhythm of Seunghyun’s blows, hitting the punching bag in his gym room with surprising consistency and force, like he’s immune to fatigue.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t knock when he finally enters. He just stands a little inside the door, resting his back against the frame. Seunghyun notices him there and stops. Somehow it is in this moment that Jiyong realises something shameful. He didn’t know it until now, the way Seunghyun didn’t know it until it came upon him unexpectedly.  
  
‘What you said the other day?’ Jiyong says. ‘If our roles were reversed, I would have said the same and meant it’.  
  
He sees that Seunghyun knows _exactly_ what he’s talking about. They would kill for each other.  
  
‘I don’t know what kind of people that makes us’.  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t answer. Jiyong sees in his face that he doesn’t know. They are who they are. It will take time to unpack it. They are each capable of doing horrible things for the other. Seunghyun proved it when he saved his life. When he beat someone half to death and threatened to have the job finished. Jiyong hasn’t thanked him for that. He doesn’t know how yet.  
  
‘I love you,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
‘I love you too’.  
  
It is the first time they have said it in days. Seunghyun winces and drops his gaze for a moment, his shoulders slackening, drooping down with a kind of devastating relief. Jiyong is surprised by it.  
   
‘Did you think I wouldn’t say it back?’  
  
‘Maybe,’ Seunghyun answers honestly. ‘You looked afraid of me, at your apartment’.  
  
‘Maybe I was,’ Jiyong answers, equally honest, ‘for a bit’.  
  
He feels such misery at there being cause to say this. It’s the truth but it doesn’t change anything. He crosses the room slowly and lays a hand on Seunghyun’s chest. He pulls him gently down by the neck so their foreheads are touching, eyes instinctively closing at the same time.  
  
‘I will always love you’, Jiyong says. _‘Always’._  
  
He releases Seunghyun’s neck and they separate, enough for Jiyong to kiss him softly on the lips, so gingerly it is barely a kiss, more of a ghosting touch, but in this is more tenderness than Jiyong has _ever_ been capable of. More feeling than he has _ever_ been able to share—the kind you only discover when you almost lose _everything_. A place you reach only after you’ve seen the worst in each other.  
  
Jiyong pulls away and heads back to the door.  
  
Seunghyun stops him. He sounds hesitant and lost.  
  
‘Before you go, can I ask you something?’  
  
Jiyong waits.  
  
‘Sure’.  
  
‘The other day you said something. When I was in the car, I heard you. You said I was your future. You’ve never said that before. I mean, we talk about the future but in heated moments, you know? In vague ways that could be metaphorical’.  
  
‘Okay?’  
  
‘What did you _mean_ when you said I was your future? Were you saying that you think we _have_ one? After the army, you think you and me---‘  
  
‘Of course,’ Jiyong blurts out, his heart breaking, because he can see in Seunghyun’s face that despite what they’ve just gone through, he still doubted it. He doubted it because Jiyong never told him not to. ‘I’m sorry I never said that earlier. Of course I think that’.  
  
‘Yeah?’  
  
Seunghyun’s face is suddenly that of a child, someone in their most vulnerable moment. He really didn’t know. He needed the words. He needs them still. Jiyong has to tell him _exactly._  
  
‘Look, I know I used to talk about life after the army like it was a world apart from our lives now,’ Jiyong says. ‘I really used to think that I would come out and get married to a nice woman and have 2.5 kids and settle down into a different kind of life than the one I’ve been living. And I know I sometimes talked about that with you, and that wasn’t fair of me’.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, as if to say, ‘ _don’t worry about it’._  
  
‘But I don’t want that any more,’ Jiyong says. ‘I haven’t wanted that for a really long time. I think the second I saw you again, when you first came back, I knew that. Those first few months, when it seemed like there was no way we could ever put the pieces back together? Those were the worst months of my life because I hadn’t just lost you once. I was losing a whole future with you that I didn’t know I wanted until it was too late’.  
  
A tear rolls down Seunghyun’s cheek, unexpected, like he has waited his entire life to hear this and Jiyong can’t believe he didn’t say these things sooner. He can’t believe he is saying them _now_ in Seunghyun’s gym room, with his world now held together by band-aids and spit, because that’s how it feels. Any second, he might split apart from the damage wrought by what just happened to him. The only thing preventing it is Seunghyun and the possibility they really can have a life together some day.  
  
‘I’m so sorry I never told you that,’ Jiyong whispers sadly. ‘I’m sorry I never told you what I wanted. I was waiting for the right time. But of course, I want that. I want us to get out of the army and be exactly what we are now. I don’t want anything to change’.  
  
‘No?’  
  
‘Well maybe _some_ things’.  
  
‘Like what?’ Seunghyun asks, worried.  
  
‘I think it would be nice if we got a place together,’ Jiyong smiles weakly. ‘I want to sell my apartment. Too much has happened there. It doesn’t feel like my home anymore and I wouldn’t ask you to sell yours, but maybe we could find a place together, you know? That we both chose’.  
  
Seunghyun looks taken aback.  
  
‘I don’t see why we can’t do that,’ Jiyong continues. ‘Or why we can’t be together for the rest of our lives, or until we get sick of each other. The army doesn’t have to change anything. Life after … doesn’t have to be different to what it is now. I don’t want it to be. I just want us to be together. I don’t want to waste any more time. I just want to be happy’.  
  
Seunghyun sniffs and wipes his eyes.  
  
‘I love you,’ Jiyong whispers. ‘I think that after the army we’ll be okay. I think we can have a nice life together. Don’t you?’  
  
Seunghyun smiles earnestly, but sad as well, because they both know how _not okay_ things are right now, they are just choosing to look around it, to a time in the future when the events of the past week have been worked through and dealt with, and they’ve both come out of it okay.  
  
‘I do’.  
  


  
*

  
  
  
Before Jiyong returns to bed, there is something he needs Seunghyun to know.  
  
‘I’m getting this brace off tomorrow and then I’m going to the pension. Dad will know what to do, how to--- deal with this. How to postpone my enlistment. You know. I haven’t told anyone yet’.  
  
Seunghyun nods.  
  
‘And the place will be empty. I was supposed to spend the week there any way, before the ceremony. Mom and dad will both be there. I think I need to spend some time with my parents. I need to get away from this’.  
   
‘I understand’.  
   
Jiyong smiles at the look of genuine understanding on Seunghyun’s face, like there isn’t a part of him that wouldn’t give up their last week together if being away from him was what he really needed.  
  
‘I want you to come with me’.  
  
Seunghyun looks surprised.  
  
‘You do?’  
  
‘Spend the week with me and my family. I want you to be there. I kind of need you to be there actually. You can come back the day before the ceremony and see your sister and whoever else, but there’s only one week left for us and I need you to spend it with me. Will you come?’  
  
Jiyong expects indecision but Seunghyun answers very quickly.  
  
‘Yes’.  
  
Jiyong smiles, genuinely this time. For now, he is keeping the lock tightly shut on all the painful emotions threatening to sink him. He is _choosing_ to only see the good. Time with Seunghyun before it’s too late.  
  
‘Okay. We’ll go tomorrow, after I get my cast on’.  
  
‘Sure. I’ll pack a bag’.  
  


 


	33. Chapter 33

 

  
  
‘Are you sure about going away?’  
  
‘Absolutely’.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and flicks ash from his cigarette over the balcony. Jiyong feels the sting of a persistent itch beneath his newly minted cast. It has niggled at him for an hour. He drops his gaze from Seunghyun’s face, opting instead to try and scratch his arm telekinetically. He needs this week to go well. He needs to breathe.  
  
‘You don’t want to go now?’  
  
‘Should we?’ Seunghyun answers. ‘I don’t know if I can pretend that everything is okay. Shouldn’t we stay here and deal with this?’  
  
‘How?’ Jiyong asks. ‘What difference will it make where we are?’  
  
‘I don’t know’.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates so Jiyong joins him on the railing, resting his elbows on the chill metal. He breathes in Seunghyun’s second hand smoke.  
  
‘Do you really think a few days will make a difference?’ he asks. ‘I’ll be dealing with this on my own no matter what. It hardly matters when I _start._ I need to see my parents, Seunghyun. I need to get away from here. I _will_ deal with what just happened. _Later._ Right now? I can’t do it. Please don’t push me’.  
  
Seunghyun sucks in a little breath but doesn’t say anything. What _can_ he say? Jiyong remembers standing in this same spot months ago, observing the way Seunghyun wasn’t dealing with his grandmother’s death. What was the right way to grieve? He didn’t know. Whatever Seunghyun did was natural and right or he wouldn’t have done it. Isn’t this the same? Isn’t he grieving too? Now that he knows what it’s like to feel paralysing fear and powerlessness, how is he supposed to behave? What difference does a few days make? What does it matter if he chooses to spend a week with his parents, or if he, for five minutes, blocks out the things he doesn’t want to deal with? Isn’t it okay to take a few days? To find some room to breathe? Seunghyun’s concern weighs on him. It rankles him.  
  
‘Can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?’  
  
‘I packed a bag, didn’t I?’  
  
Both their bags are packed and waiting by the front door, but does that matter if Seunghyun is reluctant to go? He was willing last night but today he looks heavy with concern. He thinks going to the pension for a few days will be the spark that burns Jiyong down. He thinks a few days of avoidance and playing make-believe will cause an irreparable breakdown. The opposite is true.  
  
‘I’ll be okay,’ Jiyong says, unprompted. ‘I don’t need to check myself in somewhere. I can take a few days, okay? That’s all I’m doing. A few measly days to breathe. I need this. I need to _not_ think about it’.  
  
‘I’m just worried,’ Seunghyun says placatingly.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘Because you're not okay and taking a few days off won’t change that’.  
  
‘Isn’t that the point?’ Jiyong asks. ‘A few days won’t change anything. Whatever I choose to do this week won’t erase anything. Can’t we play make-believe for a while? I’m telling you this is what I have to do’.  
  
Seunghyun takes a last drag of his cigarette, stubbing it out on the railing before flicking it over the edge. He exhales and a slow, steady stream of smoke disappears into the air above.  
  
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘On one condition. _Talk_ to somebody when I’m gone. Get a therapist. Promise me’.  
  
‘Have a little faith,’ Jiyong answers.  
  
‘It’s not about faith,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I _know_ you. What incentive do you have to get help after everything you've been through? You’ve been avoiding any help for a long time. Will this be different?’  
  
‘That's a little dramatic’.  
  
‘No it’s not, and fair enough. You have a _million_ reasons to feel terrible right now. We both know that. You've been through a lot. You didn’t get help when you first needed it. You didn’t get help when things escalated. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think it’s a sign of failure. I've been paying attention. I've been watching you for weeks,' Seunghyun says. 'You think you’re a failure because you’re not the same person you used to be. You feel bad about the fact that you’ve changed because of the things that happened to you. It’s like the further away you get from the past and the way things used to be, the unhappier you become,’ Seunghyun answers. ‘I hate that. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why you want to go back in time so badly’.  
  
Jiyong grimaces. He feels an unexpected pang. Maybe he does want that. Wasn’t he happier then? Didn’t he have it all? Seunghyun. His career. _Control._  
  
‘You are perfect,’ Seunghyun says earnestly. ‘Who you are right now? I _love_ this person. I love you more right now than I have _ever_ loved you, and that’s saying a lot because trust me, I have loved you pretty damn hard’.  
  
Jiyong smiles but turns his head against the _but_ he knows is coming.  
  
‘But maybe you’re lost _,_ ’ Seunghyun continues. ‘You keep trying to go back in time, and you can’t, and it makes you miserable. You want to recreate the past instead of focussing on the present. You need to figure out a way to like the person you are now. It’s okay that you’re _different_ now. Change isn’t failure,’ he says. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you because you have flaws or because you’re uncertain or because you’ve _suffered_. You want to be perfect in a way that’s unattainable. You expect it. You can’t _be_ perfect. You can’t _do_ everything alone’.  
  
Jiyong looks him in the eye and softens at the sincerity on Seunghyun’s face.  
  
_‘So?’_  
  
‘So, I want you to take _care_ of yourself,’ Seunghyun urges. ‘I want you to stop seeing failure in everything you do, including what just happened to you. Being a victim isn’t failure. If you can’t pick yourself up right away, that’s not failure. Nothing you have coming over the next few months will make you a failure. You understand?’  
  
_‘Sure’._  
  
‘Jiyong,’ Seunghyun says. ‘Life has dealt you a fucked-up hand. Even before this horrible shit, I knew you were struggling. It’s okay if your life takes unexpected turns from here. It’s okay if you don’t figure it out. It’s okay to be aimless for a while. Just find a way to be okay with whatever you do. Find a way to be happy while you figure things out. I want you to do that when I’m gone,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I want you to be okay on your own. I want you to see yourself as you are. Do your best to stay healthy and stop finding reasons to be at odds with yourself. Ask for help’.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t answer. He can't think how to.  
  
‘I’ll go to the pension with you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll do your best,’ Seunghyun says, ‘when I’m _gone_. The next few months will be _hard._ You need someone on your side’.  
  
‘Let me guess,’ Jiyong answers. ‘That someone is _me_?’  
  
He rolls his eyes, frustrated but also touched at the sincerity in what Seunghyun is trying to say. Jiyong understands the sentiment and where he’s coming from. Maybe he _will_ need to find some happiness in the journey. He will need help. He will need to change the way he thinks. The next few months will be hard but he needs to find a way of being happy, despite that. That much is true. He won't survive otherwise.  
  
‘Love yourself like _I_ love you,’ Seunghyun suggests. ‘Trust my good taste and judgement’.  
  
‘I’ll try,’ Jiyong shrugs.   
  
‘Do you promise?’  
  
Jiyong pulls his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t going to bring this up or make a big deal out if it, but at the tail end of this speech, maybe Seunghyun needs to see that he _is_ making steps. That his assurances of ‘dealing with things’ when Seunghyun is gone, aren’t simply platitudes but plans. He opens his calendar and brings up a date two weeks from today. He passes the phone over and Seunghyun’s eyebrows knit as he reads the scheduled reminder.  
  
‘What is this?’  
  
‘An appointment,’ Jiyong answers, ‘with a discrete psychiatrist. I called this-morning’.  
  
Seunghyun’s eyes widen in surprise. The sides of his mouth curve upwards. His eyes crinkle. He practically glows with satisfaction.  
  
‘Please, look a little less proud of me,’ Jiyong says, feeling warmth in his cheeks.  
  
‘I can’t,’ Seunghyun answers, handing the phone back. ‘That’s a big deal,’ he says, nodding to the phone. ‘A huge deal. I _am_ proud of you’.  
  
Jiyong rolls his eyes and tucks his phone back into his pocket. Is it brave to ask for help after someone you loved tried to kill you?   
  
‘You could have stopped me,’ Seunghyun says, ‘before I gave that unnecessary speech just now, like a total asshole’.  
  
‘Well, I wanted to hear what you had to say’.  
  
He shrugs and Seunghyun smiles.    
  
‘What did you think?’ he asks.  
  
‘I think you know me pretty well,’ Jiyong answers, tugging on Seunghyun’s shirt. ‘And you think very _highly_ of me. Maybe you see me a little better than I am. But maybe _some_ of what you said is true. I’ll try’.  
  
Seunghyun softens.  
  
‘Now,’ Jiyong begs, wanting desperately to be gone from here, to start their vacation from all _this_. ‘Can we _please_ forget everything for a few days? The world won’t end if we take a break. Let’s go force some fun. Let’s pretend everything is okay’.  
  
Seunghyun kisses Jiyong on the top of the head and gives in.  
  
‘Alright. Let’s go’.

 

 

  
* * *

 

 

 

Jiyong warns his mother beforehand, by telephone, that he isn’t looking his best, that he’ll have company with him and they both look worse for wear. He has to lie to explain away their injuries, because days later the bruises are plain to see and the aches and pains are only just starting to fade. They can’t be covered up, and the exhaustion from trying to hide them would become suffocating. He tells her they were in a car accident. He was driving and someone came out of nowhere. It wasn’t his fault but there were scrapes and bruises and a broken arm. His enlistment will be necessarily deferred.  
  
She tries to hide her surprise when he first gets out of the car, but she covers her mouth with her hand, unsuccessful, and looks at him like a pitiable thing that needs TLC. She isn’t far wrong. She has the same look when Seunghyun gets out after him. She seems to want to hug and fix them both, so for a moment she is paralysed, her attention divided.  
  
Ultimately, she pulls Jiyong in first, drawing him into a gentle hug that makes him want to cry. Her arms circle him and his throat tightens. His face contorts over her shoulder and his eyes water. He tries desperately not to cry in her arms like a child. He reigns it in, but barely. It’s only the recollection of those weeks he spent with her after Seunghyun’s disappearance that stop him from falling apart. He remembers how horrible he felt, knowing he had caused her so much worry.  
  
He pulls himself free of her embrace and faces away from her until he can blink back the tears. Seunghyun steps in in his absence. Jiyong watches his mother embrace Seunghyun like he’s part of the family. She delicately turns his face to both sides with a finger, assessing the damage. She whispers something in his ear when they hug that Jiyong can’t make out. It doesn’t matter. For a moment, the fading aches and pains seem almost worth it for the fleeting illusion that they’re a family, all of them together. Brought closer by tragedy. The notion doesn’t last long, but the sight of them together sticks in his head. It ignites a faint anxiety in his gut. Anticipation of something unavoidable drawing closer.

 

 

  
* * *

  
  
  
The first day passes slowly.  
  
It is new and strange being there all together. His father is away but will be back in the morning, so the first afternoon passes with he and Seunghyun alone, filling time. His mother periodically checks in which makes them wary of conversation, lest she overhear anything she shouldn’t. Everything they say becomes stilted until they just stop speaking and pass time wordlessly instead.  
  
It isn’t that the experience is different to what Jiyong expected. He didn’t really expect anything. It’s just strange, at first. Playing make-believe is more jolting in practice than in theory. He and Seunghyun have always been together in secret, in certain _spaces_ , in fleeting moments. They have never been together in _this_ space or with his family. Not like this anyway.  
  
Whenever he has come to the pension in the past, he has been one person. Pension-Jiyong is straight and in-between girlfriends, too busy to settle down. Today, with Seunghyun, on the tail end of what has just happened to them both, he isn’t that Jiyong anymore and pretending isn’t possible. The first day at the pension is spent trying to cobble together a new identity. One that is half-real and half-manufactured. Trying to reconcile all the conflicting parts of himself.  


  
  
*

  
  
  
Seunghyun feels off, for a while. Anxious. Jiyong catches him periodically outside or at the kitchen bench, tapping nervously on the countertop, rolling his ankle or bouncing his knee unconsciously. He chain-smokes two feet from a no-smoking sign and Jiyong has to herd him around a corner before his mother sees and berates him like he’s one of her own.  
  
Outside, Jiyong bums a smoke from Seunghyun’s pack and they sit together at a small table on a balcony crowded with so many plants, they are just about obscured by greenery. There is a small opening through the leaves, so they can see the water in the distance. Without any guests, the pension is quiet and peaceful. The sound of birds periodically break the silence. Gaho barks now and then from his kennel around the corner.  
  
‘You okay?’ Seunghyun asks, lighting his cigarette for him. Jiyong inhales and holds it. He closes his eyes and savours before answering, smoke filling the space between them as he answers.  
  
‘Me? What about you?’  
  
‘What about me?’  
  
‘You’re anxious today. Not like you were this-morning. What are you thinking about?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on the peeling paint of the table between them.  
  
‘I don’t know. Everything, I guess. It’s too quiet here. I’m not used to it’.  
  
‘You can’t get away from it,’ Jiyong says, sympathetic.  
  
Seunghyun sighs through his nose, sending tendrils of smoke into the sky. He looks so dependent on his cigarette, Jiyong wonders how he ever quit when he was away. It’s like every breath is bolstering him, feeding life back into his body; his own supply depleting through some unseen leak.  
  
‘Do you want to talk about it?’  
  
‘About what?’  
  
‘Everything, _’_ Jiyong parrots. That’s what Seunghyun said he was out here thinking about. What he has been thinking about since they arrived, while he has _tap-tapped_ on every surface in the house.  
  
‘We agreed not to,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
_Oh_.  
  
Seunghyun isn’t anxious about his impending loss of freedom. He is thinking about what’s already happened. Hyeong-bae. What happened in that apartment. The things they can’t take back. He said he would erase the last week from his mind, but being in a new environment--- being caught in the silence here--- he hasn’t been able to do it.  
  
‘Oh. I thought you were thinking about next week,’ Jiyong says, quietly.  
  
He stares at the table between them. In another world, he would have already encouraged Seunghyun to talk, but he doesn’t know if he can hack it this time. He doesn’t want to talk about what happened. Even if Seunghyun talks _around_ it, the events in that apartment will come back to him. The suggestion makes his skin clammy. He doesn’t want to impose a moratorium on talking about _it_ , he just doesn’t _want_ to. He worries that if he lets himself think about it, he will be damaged forever. He will be broken in ways that can never be fixed.  
  
Seunghyun looks miserable though. Something is eating away at him. He doesn’t roll his ankles and bounce his knee and chain-smoke on balconies because he feels good. Shouldn’t he … _talk_? Or be allowed to? How can they enjoy the next few days together if they can’t create a space for some momentary peace together? Even if it _is_ make-believe.  
  
So, Jiyong tries. He calls up what insignificant willpower is left in him and he tries to bolster himself against whatever Seunghyun might say. Against the memories and the facts. He tries to get through it.  
  
‘We agreed that I didn’t _have_ to talk about it, not that you couldn’t or shouldn’t’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles sardonically but not uncaring.  
  
‘What could I have to talk about?’  
  
‘You almost killed someone with your bare hands,’ Jiyong answers plainly. ‘Isn’t that what’s bothering you?’  
  
Seunghyun barely reacts, he waves his free hand on the table, the one with the cigarette.  
  
‘It looked worse than it was. Heads bleed a lot’.  
  
‘Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?’  
  
Seunghyun shifts uncomfortably but it almost seems affected.  
  
‘It was too much? Am I _violent_ now?’  
  
‘You’ve always been violent,’ Jiyong answers. Maybe not physically, but the inclination was always present in him. He would lash out in moments of stress. He would force that violence inwards. ‘This was different’.  
  
‘They were extenuating circumstances’.  
  
‘Does that matter?’  
  
‘I think it does’.  
  
Maybe that’s the crux of it. Maybe Seunghyun is ashamed of his own violence. Maybe he wants to be excused. Jiyong wants to be that source of comfort to him, but he doesn’t want to lie and Seunghyun wouldn’t believe him if he did. If Seunghyun hadn’t come when he did, if he hadn’t done what he _did_ to Hyeong-bae, Jiyong knows he might be dead. He is grateful. That doesn’t mean he can erase it. He can’t tell Seunghyun it was nothing. All he can do is be here for him while he works through it. What happened was hard on them both.  
  
‘I don’t want to talk about this with you,’ Seunghyun says eventually.  
  
‘Well, it doesn’t have to be with me’.  
  
‘Should I call my therapist and tell her I tried to kill someone?’  
  
‘That’s not what I meant. It’s not a bad idea to talk about how you _feel_ , that’s all’.  
  
Jiyong is surprised by Seunghyun’s tone, like he doesn’t need help, or wouldn’t ever. He’s been seeing a therapist twice a week for months. What makes this any different? What makes this something he can’t talk about? Maybe in his head he doesn’t see what happened in that apartment for what it was. Or maybe he does and that’s the problem.  
  
Maybe the difference is me, Jiyong thinks.  
  
For all the wisdom Seunghyun imparted this-morning about his self-perception and inherent weaknesses, Seunghyun has some of his own. They are more similar than they will generally admit.  
  
‘How I _feel?_ ’ Seunghyun asks quietly. ‘What do you want me to say?’  
  
‘The truth’.  
  
‘I don’t know what that is. Even if I did I wouldn’t talk about it. Not with you’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘Because you don’t want to, and you’re not ready. It would upset you. That’s why we’re here, remember? To not talk about it’.  
  
Jiyong feels a faint loosening in his chest, of relief. He accepts his limitations.  
  
‘You’re right,’ he answers honestly. ‘I _don’t_ want to talk about it. I don’t want to hear you talk about it either, but I want you to talk if you need to. Call somebody. Call John’.  
  
Seunghyun waves off the suggestion.  
  
‘We’re not exactly friends again’.  
  
‘He’s your friend, whether or not you think you’re his. If you call, he’ll listen’.  
  
‘And tell him all our personal business? Tell him what happened? You’d be okay with that?’  
  
Jiyong shrugs, tired.  
  
‘He knows so much already. I doubt anything you said would surprise him. I don’t mind you talking to him about us, or me. If you need to talk, I’m fine with that’.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates. He grimaces like it’s unthinkable but he doesn’t refuse. He wants to talk to somebody. About me maybe, Jiyong thinks. And that’s okay. John can do that for him. He can be an ear or a shoulder or whatever Seunghyun needs to lean on. What happened in that apartment must be hard on him too. It wasn’t nothing, what he did.  
  
‘Call him,’ Jiyong says, pushing his chair back. ‘I’ll go watch a movie for a while’.  
  
‘I don’t want to waste this time together’.  
  
Jiyong feels guilt inch up his spine. He stretches an open hand across the table all the same. Seunghyun laces their fingers together and Jiyong squeezes his hand.  
  
‘I can’t talk about what you need to talk about, and I’m sorry. I just can’t. So, talk to _him_ for as long as you want. A phone call like that isn’t wasted. Do whatever you need to do, okay?’  
  
Seunghyun bows forward and brings Jiyong’s hand to his lips, kissing the soft part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
‘Thank-you’.

  
  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
  


Half an hour later, Jiyong pries himself off the couch and skulks toward his room for a sweater. It’s getting cold. With the windows open for fresh air, the cool breeze steals in and soaks into his bones. He throws an old sweater on that’s two sizes too big and returns to the couch a different way. He stops by the window first, the one near Seunghyun’s balcony, to see how the call is going. He doesn’t plan on staying or listening, he just wants to get a sense of the vibe. He wants to know if Seunghyun is okay.  
  
So, he flattens himself against the window and strains to hear what’s going on. Words come through the glass muffled and inaudible but then clearer. Seunghyun is pacing. His words are clear at one end of the balcony and unintelligible from the other. What Jiyong hears in snippets makes his skin crawl. A point of view he didn’t want to hear.  
  
‘I thought he was dead’.  
  
A pause for John’s answer.  
  
‘All I could hear was my own heart pounding and his head smacking against the ground. He looked dead,’ Seunghyun says. ‘ _Dead._ Seriously. For a second, I thought he was gone. I don’t know how to talk about that. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to talk about that’.  
  
Jiyong pulls his arms into his sweater, folding them around his chest. He hides inside the fabric like he did when he was younger. Craving warmth in more ways than one. A defence mechanism.  
  
‘I will remember that feeling until the day I die. I feel it _now_ ,’ Seunghyun says, emotionally. ‘It’s like an ache in my chest and it’s always going to be there. Every day for the rest of my life, when I look at him, I’m going to remember. I don’t know how to pretend that didn’t happen’.  
  
Jiyong understands what he means. He went through this himself when Seunghyun let slip that he’d tried to kill himself and almost succeeded. They were just words but they put cracks in sturdy foundations, which once cracked are never strong again. After that, nothing is ever the same. Seunghyun’s confession months ago burned itself into him. It’s still there, like a scar. A reminder of the fragility of life, in the inherent weaknesses in every stacked tower of cards. Every happy moment for the rest of his life will be touched by it.  
  
Jiyong slips away from the window and heads back to the lounge. He doesn’t want to hear any more. Part of his stomach flips at the thought of Seunghyun seeing him in a vulnerable moment every time he looks at him, instead of seeing him as he is.  
  
In another life, he might have used this to self-sabotage; to set Seunghyun _free_. He knows better now. He knows better because he knows what all this feels like. For a long time after Seunghyun’s confession, just being near him was painful. He made mistakes because of that. Knowing what Seunghyun had almost done was overwhelming, but it was easier when they were together. It was easier when Jiyong faced it head-on. That’s life. Things happen and you deal with them, the way Seunghyun will have to deal with this. The way they’ll both have to deal with it. Together.

 

  
  
*  
  
  
  


When Seunghyun finally shows his face in the lounge room, it’s been almost two hours and Jiyong has sat through a full documentary about a fishery in a country he has never been to. He expects Seunghyun to look drained when he comes in, but he looks the opposite. Refreshed. Unburdened. Jiyong knows better than to think a phone-call is a simple fix, but it has taken off some of the pressure and given Seunghyun room to breathe. He can’t help but smile when Seunghyun walks in. He pulls back the blanket he threw over himself and Seunghyun slides into the space beside him, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Jiyong swivels so he can rest his legs over Seunghyun’s lap.  
  
‘What are we watching?’ Seunghyun asks.  
  
‘You just missed a riveting documentary about fisheries’.  
  
‘Do you feel like watching it again?’ Seunghyun jokes.  
  
Jiyong smiles and Seunghyun answers him, uncharacteristically bare.  
  
‘I love you’.  
  
Jiyong prays his mother is at the opposite end of the house, because he doesn’t spare a look around before saying it back.  
  
For a few minutes, they make a show of finding something to watch together before Seunghyun grows bored of it and turns the television off.  
  
‘I know it’s cold but let’s do something. Let’s go for a swim,’ he says.  
  
Jiyong extends his plaster cast between them, as a dour reminder of his limitations.  
  
‘I can’t swim’.  
  
‘We’ll bag it up,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t get the chance. Seunghyun has pushed his legs from his lap and stood up with a mission, halfway to the door before he’s even finished his sentence. Jiyong watches his purposeful retreat, awestruck.  
  
By the time he follows, Seunghyun is already in his swim trunks and a gaudy yellow leg of fabric hits him in the face when he turns the corner. His own trunks unravel over his shoulder. Seunghyun is a surprisingly good shot.  
  
‘Get dressed and I’ll do your arm’.  
  
Jiyong acquiesces, following Seunghyun’s directions. He fumbles with the cord of his trunks for what seems like an hour, trying to tie a knot with the inch of fingers poking out from his plaster cast. Seunghyun eventually steps in and dresses him before revealing his big plans. Cling film and a plastic bag.  
  
‘Oh no’.  
  
‘It’s tried and tested’.  
  
‘I don’t want to get in the pool with a plastic bag on my arm’.  
   
_‘It’s happening!’_  
  
Jiyong protests but it’s fruitless. Seunghyun drags the cling film from the box and starts wrapping his arm up like a mummy until every patch of plaster is covered. He seals both ends with medical tape and for the pièce de résistance —pulls a plastic grocery bag over the top and tapes that just below the elbow.  
  
Jiyong stares at his new arm and grimaces. It rustles when he moves.    
  
‘A work of art,’ Seunghyun says, kissing thumb and forefinger.  
  
‘Me or the plastic bag?’  
  
‘Both’.  


  
  
  
*  


 

  
‘ _Stop!_ I don’t want to get it wet!’  
  
Jiyong kicks his leg out, through the water, connecting weakly with Seunghyun’s thigh, just enough to send him back a few feet. He’s in the pool with his elbows perched behind him on the edge, to keep his arms clear of the water. Seunghyun has been trying to pull him from the wall for fifteen minutes. He doesn’t seem to comprehend the tedious chain of events that will occur if his cast gets wet and he needs to get a new one put on. Seunghyun is _that_ confident in his waterproofing skills.  
  
He inches closer.  
  
‘What’s the point of swimming if you won’t let go of the edge?’  
  
‘I can’t swim either way! I have a bagged up broken arm! What does it matter if I’m floating on the edge versus floating in the middle? Leave me alone.’ Jiyong flicks water up into Seunghyun’s face with his good hand.   
  
‘Just trust me’.  
  
_‘No!’_  
  
Seunghyun lunges forward. This time, Jiyong barely fends him off. Pleading for sanctuary, he inches across the edge and heads for safety. He can’t pull himself out with a broken arm so he needs to climb out like a geriatric or a toddler, using the ladder.  
  
‘Are you trying to escape?’  
  
Jiyong wants to say something cranky and biting, but Seunghyun laughs. He really _laughs_ , and the sound makes Jiyong weaken. It’s nice to hear Seunghyun laugh. It’s nice to hear laughter at all. He smiles, despite himself, but keeps moving. He doesn’t want to get a new cast on.  
  
‘Truce!’ Seunghyun calls.  
  
Jiyong pauses at the ladder and turns to face a penitent looking Seunghyun with his hands out of the water in supplication.  
  
‘I’ll stop trying to drag you into the middle. Don’t get out’.  
  
Jiyong hesitates, sensing a trap, but Seunghyun looks so convincing that he drops his guard and shuffles to the side of the ladder, his elbows perched behind him once more. His feet comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool.  
  
‘If you try it one more time---‘  
  
Seunghyun smiles and ducks below the water to wet his face and hair. Jiyong watches him re-emerge like an actor in a speedo commercial, throwing his hair back in slow motion. He kicks water out to dispel the fantasy and Seunghyun laughs, disappearing below the water again. Jiyong doesn’t watch him this time, so he’s surprised by the attack. Seunghyun re-emerges from the water right in front of him and pulls him off the edge before he knows what’s happening.  
  
Jiyong scrambles to keep his arms out of the water. He wraps his legs around Seunghyun’s waist and props his bagged arm over Seunghyun’s shoulder to keep it dry.  
  
‘ _Asshole!’_  
  
‘I’m taking you for a spin’.  
  
Seunghyun turns quickly and the motion sends water rolling up Jiyong’s back before it calms and settles around his waist, just above his belly button. It feels nice to move through the water but he won’t say so. Seunghyun smiles through all of his frowns and walks a lap around the pool, tall enough that he can almost stand in the deep end with his feet flat on the bottom. After the first circuit, Jiyong readjusts. He gets a better grip around Seunghyun so he doesn’t feel like he’s slipping. His face is now a few inches above Seunghyun’s which doesn’t bode well for him when Seunghyun looks up with big, sad, eyes.  
  
‘Please try to have fun’.  
  
‘I don’t want to get my cast wet’.  
  
‘It won’t get wet. Do you really think I’d pull you in if I thought—‘  
  
‘Accidents happen’.  
  
‘We’re here to play make believe _,_ ’ Seunghyun says again. ‘Fun times, remember? You’re ruining the illusion’.  
  
Jiyong feels a pang of guilt and sighs, rolling his eyes. If his arm wasn’t broken he’d be the one mercilessly dragging Seunghyun under the water until he begged him to stop. So, he sucks it up. That’s why he’s here. To force this. To force away what just happened with Hyeong-bae. To suppress it. He puts on a big smile.  
  
‘Better?’  
  
‘I’ve never seen a more believable grin in my life’.  
  
Jiyong smiles earnestly, just for a second. It sneaks onto his face but he gets caught. Seunghyun puckers his lips in answer.  
  
‘Give me a kiss’.  
  
Jiyong does a cursory sweep of their surroundings to check for his mother, then concedes. He ducks his head to plant a chaste peck on Seunghyun’s lips. It’s nice and brief but Seunghyun cajoles him into a real kiss. The way they haven’t kissed since _it_ happened. For a brief second, hesitation flickers in Jiyong’s head, but it quickly peters out. Seunghyun’s lips are soft and wet. The mix of cold water and heated skin is nice though. It’s different. There’s passion but no desperation. The kiss is slow and languid. It’s peaceful and nice in the water, with the gentle lapping at his back, and the quiet sounds around them. It feels like they’re somewhere else. Different people maybe, in a different timeline.  
  
‘We should stop,’ Jiyong whispers against Seunghyun’s lips. ‘My mom---‘  
  
‘We’ll hear her’.  
  
The door inside is unlocked. Even if she did knock, she’d walk right in and see them through the glass doors before they heard her. All Jiyong can hear is Seunghyun’s breathing and his own pulse in his ears.  
  
‘No, we won’t’.  
  
Seunghyun kisses him again. He silences his worries and moves them through the water, to the end of the pool that is furthest from the door, stopping at the edge just before his feet lose touch with the bottom. Jiyong feels the hard wall of the pool at his back and Seunghyun breaks the kiss.  
  
‘There are no cameras out here, right?’  
  
‘Shouldn’t you have asked me _before_?’  
  
‘Those kisses were CPR’.  
  
‘Oh? I didn’t know I was in trouble. Thank-you’.  
  
Seunghyun ducks in for a quick peck then pulls back expectantly, waiting for an actual answer.  
  
‘The cameras are on the other side of the wall, you moron. They’re to catch would-be murderers breaking in, not me getting out of the shower inside’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and kisses him again, sending Jiyong back to his happy place since time immemorial, since the very first time they kissed and meant it and every time since; happy, angry, sad, broken—every kiss infused with the same need. This brief bubble of happiness is everything Jiyong hoped for by coming here. One small pocket of time where nothing else exists except he and Seunghyun and this _feeling_.  
  
One of Seunghyun’s hands moves from his waist, moves down and in, brushes a light hand between his legs and Jiyong pauses in the kiss. He freezes. Seunghyun repeats the action with his hand and Jiyong feels it. Through the water and the resistance, he _feels_ the tips of Seunghyun’s fingers through his trunks. They gently graze against his dick and he doesn’t know what to do or how to feel.  
  
It doesn’t feel bad. It’s weird but _nice_. Still, he hesitates. In his head, something locks him in place. Seunghyun tries to gauge this reaction and Jiyong can’t say anything because he doesn’t know what the problem is. He doesn’t know what the hesitation is. Guilt? When something _happens_ to you, there’s a refractory period isn’t there? Rules about how quickly you can laugh again, how soon after you can kiss or fuck and pretend everything is alright.  
  
It feels like that. Seunghyun touches him and it feels good, the way kissing him makes him feel comforted and new; except this is different. It feels like he’s doing the wrong thing, that by enjoying Seunghyun’s touch he’s not giving what happened to them both enough weight, that being together is like an admission that what happened wasn’t _quite that bad_ because if it was, he wouldn’t be doing this. He would be huddled in a corner with his eyes closed, crying his heart out.  
  
And it isn’t that he doesn’t want to do that--- because he does, and he has, he just made the choice to switch it off. To pretend. That’s what they’re _doing_ here. They’re playing make-believe. Isn’t it okay to do that? Isn’t it okay to let Seunghyun touch him? Isn’t it okay to like it? Isn’t it okay to feel good for a few minutes?   
  
Their eyes lock and Seunghyun senses his unwillingness.  
  
‘You okay?’ he asks gently. ‘You don’t want to?’  
  
Jiyong’s lips part to answer but nothing comes out. He fumbles over his words, trying to articulate the confused bullshit in his head. He wants to explain the _feeling_ that this isn’t allowed, that if he lets this happen, he’s a lesser person somehow.  
  
‘That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything,’ Seunghyun says, sliding his hand back to a less compromising place, but Jiyong reflexively stops him. He holds his wrist close.  
  
‘It’s not that, I just --- ‘  
  
The words don’t form in his head so they don’t fall out of his mouth like they’re supposed to. He can only use his face to try and explain these feelings he doesn’t understand, but Seunghyun deciphers them. He understands him, enough at least to get a sense. To _try._  
  
‘We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can try little things, if you like. Slow?’  
  
Jiyong nods. He doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know if he wants to do this, but he knows he doesn’t want it to stop either.  
  
‘Stop me whenever you want, okay?’  
  
‘Okay’.  
  
So, in the water, with the hard edge of the pool digging into his back, Seunghyun kisses him to unfurl the knot between his shoulder blades; to ease his tension until they are back where they started. Somewhere peaceful and willing. Seunghyun’s hand moves between his legs again, a light touch over fabric—just enough to be felt. The water adds a strange element. It adds resistance. It changes the game. It isn’t the same, but it’s still good.  
  
Seunghyun barely touches him. He is gentle and sparing. The guilt in Jiyong’s head fades, not entirely but enough that he knows he wants this. He wants the fleeting touches. He wants closeness and intimacy. He doesn’t want to be fearful and sad any more. He just wants to forget all that shit.  
  
So, they experiment for a while with languid kisses and Seunghyun’s gentle touches until the warmth in Jiyong’s face blooms in his gut as well. Heat pools in his dick and he gets hard. He wants more. He kisses Seunghyun with more urgency, impatient.  
  
‘Good?’ Seunghyun whispers.  
  
Jiyong kisses him in answer. He catches Seunghyun’s gaze and holds it. He wants to _look_ at him while he still has the chance, in these last fleeting moments together. He doesn’t break that eye contact and either does Seunghyun. Not even when Seunghyun’s fingers beneath the water loosen the cord of his trunks and slip inside to hold his dick.  
  
Jiyong flinches. Seunghyun takes his cock in his hand and doesn’t miss a beat, slowly pulling him off despite the difficulty of the water. It feels so different, warm and tight but in a whole new way, one frustratingly close to what he’s used to but not the same. Jiyong’s breath slips through his lips in a stutter. So close together, he can hear Seunghyun’s breathing fill the spaces between his own. He can see the little pulse of his chest with each heartbeat.  
  
He breaks eye contact and looks down. At first, it’s unthinking. A reflex. But he doesn’t look away. There is something in the way Seunghyun’s hand moves, in the way his wrist rolls and his fingers curve with each firm, slow pull. Jiyong’s never really watched before. He’s watched blow jobs but not _this_. There’s something a little forbidden in it, in sharing such intimacy in an open setting. In _seeing_ himself. The water makes it bearable. It distorts reality but shows just enough.  
  
‘This is unhygienic,’ he stutters.  
  
‘We won’t go too far,’ Seunghyun answers with a smile. ‘I’m just teasing you’.  
  
‘My mother---‘ Jiyong whispers.  
  
‘We’ll hear her’.  
  
Jiyong pretends that answer is a good enough excuse for taking this risk. The water is their only protection from prying eyes, but in a sense, it’s pointless. There would be no confusion if caught. Seunghyun loosens his trunks all the way so the front falls open and he has full access. Even through the water, everything is perfectly out in the open. Visible. Jiyong tries not to think about his dick being out in a pool that his parents have undoubtedly swam in at some point.  
  
Seunghyun does what he says and teases him. Jiyong watches in rapt fascination as he comes alive in Seunghyun’s hand; flushed, swollen, responding to every touch. He’s fooled around in showers before, even in a bath once, but this is different. Weightless. With his legs still wrapped around Seunghyun’s waist, this is something altogether new. Each motion of Seunghyun’s arm sends little ripples outwards in the water until the sound becomes obscene. It feels oppressively loud. The warmth of Seunghyun’s breathing hits Jiyong’s chest with each exhalation and sends heat down his spine.  
  
Jiyong twitches in Seunghyun’s hand, his hips rolling subtly. He wants to feel _more_. They kiss again and Jiyong lets slip a sound at a particularly satisfying squeeze. Seunghyun swallows the sound but another follows. The fingers of his free hand dig into Seunghyun’s bicep, the plastic bag a forgotten indignity.  
  
‘Are you close?’ Seunghyun whispers.  
  
Jiyong nods his answer, his face burning from how close. He parts his lip to say something, to call it off before it’s too late, and it’s here, in the pause between his pounding heart and heavy breathing that he hears the sound of the inside door. Somehow, by some _miracle_ , he hears it.  
  
_‘Fuck’._  
   
Jiyong pushes Seunghyun away and tucks his dick back into his trunks, turning flush against the side of the pool so the wall can keep them on, unable to do them up in time, _or_ one-handed. Seunghyun takes his cue and pushes off from the wall beside him. He floats into the middle of the pool, disappearing beneath the water to cool his face maybe. Both of them are flushed, their lips similarly swollen and pink.  
  
His mother’s voice rings out when she’s two feet from the glass doors and already stepping through. Jiyong looks up from the opposite end of the pool and Seunghyun re-emerges from the water closer to her than to him. She has food with her. A plate of something Jiyong can’t see from where he is. He feels his eyes lose focus. His heart pounds in his chest and his fingers lose their feeling. A sudden peak of stress and panic.  
  
Seunghyun leisurely swims to her end of the pool and says hello while Jiyong waves from a distance, trying to control his breathing. He tries to appear inconspicuous. This close. Mere seconds and it would have been over. All of it. She would have _seen_ them.  
  
She and Seunghyun exchange words at the water’s edge but Jiyong can’t make it out. He rests his forehead on the concrete skirting the pool, breathing heavily, trying to find his composure, trying to slow his heart rate down. The fingers of his good hand brush against the rough ground. He uses the texture to centre him. This was an unnecessary risk. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.   
  
Seunghyun’s voice carries and Jiyong lifts his head. Seunghyun has a fist full of whatever his mother made for them to eat. Something sweet probably. He has so many in his mouth when Jiyong turns around, his cheeks are puffed out to accommodate them.  
  
His mother calls out for him to come and get some food but Jiyong waves her off. He couldn’t leave the side of the pool if he wanted to. Being flat against it is the only thing keeping his trunks on. Seunghyun’s face slowly returns to its normal size as he makes his way through all the food in his mouth and he shoots Jiyong a look that is equal parts cute and infuriating. He thinks their near-miss is funny.  
  
His mother leaves as quickly as she appeared and Seunghyun wades back over with his hands out of the water. Jiyong flushes when he stops beside him.  
  
‘Close call,’ Seunghyun smiles.  
  
‘It’s not funny!’  
  
‘Open your mouth,’ he says.  
  
Seunghyun has a biscuit in his hand so Jiyong does what he says and opens up. Seunghyun places it between his teeth. It’s got ginger in it or something. Jiyong bites the cookie in half as he turns around. It’s good. Sweet but not too sweet.  
  
He puts his elbows back up on the side of the pool while Seunghyun pulls his trunks up for him and ties the cords. It’s implicitly understood by both of them, the time for fondling each-other has passed.  
  
‘You only saved me one biscuit?’ Jiyong frowns, brushing crumbs from his face. ‘That’s it?’

 

 

*  


  
  
  
On that first night, they don’t stay up into the night talking. They don’t pick up where they left off in the pool. It is a lazy kind of day, as if they have a million more just like it. They eat until they’re full. They watch a movie in bed, and by the time midnight comes, they are both asleep and wrapped around each other.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Are you going somewhere?’  
  
Jiyong wakes to the sound of Seunghyun knocking things over on the table.  
  
‘Sorry I woke you. I have an appointment. It won’t take more than an hour’.  
  
‘What kind of appointment?’ Jiyong asks, rolling over to face him. He brushes the hair out of his face and lets his cheek flatten against the mattress.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates to answer. He runs a hand through his hair, unaware that he’s doing it until he pauses mid-motion and gives up entirely.  
  
‘I’m getting my hair shaved off’.  
  
Seunghyun’s answer becomes a weight in the pit of Jiyong’s gut. It’s not unexpected. He knows these are their last days together and why. First Seunghyun’s hair will go and then the rest of him. It will be hard to see him without his hair. This impending nightmare will become all too real. He’ll be able to touch it. His absence. The thing that will keep them apart.  
  
‘I can do it’.  
  
‘Do what?’  
  
‘Shave your head. Cancel your appointment. I can do it. I want to’.  
  
Seunghyun laughs at the joke, but it isn’t one. Jiyong pulls himself up and leans against the headboard, gathering the blankets around his waist.  
  
‘I’ve shaved my own a few times and Xin’s too. I won’t fuck it up, I promise’.  
  
Seunghyun hesitates. He picks his wallet off a nearby chair and slides it into his back pocket.  
  
‘I don’t think so’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘If a stranger does it, I can’t get upset’.  
  
‘You think you will?’  
  
Seunghyun’s shoulders slump and he shrugs in resignation.  
  
‘Once the hair goes, that’s it. It’s real. I’ll look in the mirror and that will be that. I’m a soldier. I don’t know how to be okay with that’.  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘So, I don’t want you to do it,’ Seunghyun reiterates. ‘I appreciate the offer but I’d rather sit in a stranger’s chair and bottle up my feelings, if that’s okay’.  
  
Jiyong frowns but tries to conceal his disappointment.  
  
‘If that’s what you want’.  
  
Seunghyun gropes around the table for his keys and Jiyong throws his legs over the side of the bed. He wants to respect Seunghyun’s wishes but he has to make an attempt. He doesn’t know why it matters that they do this together. He feels an ache thinking Seunghyun might do this without him. That he would rather face it on his own.  
  
‘You won’t be here when I shave my head,’ Jiyong says. ‘If I had a choice, I would want you there, but you won’t be. I don’t get a say in that. You? You have that opportunity. I’m right here. I can shave your head if you’ll let me. I want to. But, if you still want someone else to do it, that’s okay’.  
  
Seunghyun groans and drops his head back, visibly frustrated by this pointed guilt-trip. Jiyong doesn’t want to pull the ‘if it were me,’ card but he does it anyway.  
  
He is surprised when Seunghyun relents.  
  
‘Fine’.  


  
*  


  
  
It takes Jiyong the better part of an hour to find the clippers. He has a dozen bathrooms to search, but eventually he sits Seunghyun down on a chair in the ensuite and holds them in his hand. They are both facing the mirror, looking at each other’s reflections.  
  
‘Are you ready?’  
  
Seunghyun cradles his head in his hands for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. Strands part and fold effortlessly beneath his touch. His hair is glossy and has a natural bounce. It looks healthy. It seems cruel to cut it off. Jiyong still remembers how it looked when he first came back from Japan. It was shaved then too. Slowly, as Seunghyun got better and stronger and happier, his hair did the same. It has been a little record of his upward progress.    
  
Seunghyun sighs and slides his hands under his thighs to stop himself from protesting or swatting the clippers away in disgust. Jiyong runs his own fingers through Seunghyun’s locks. He tries to catalogue this feeling. The smell of his hair. He takes one last look at this Seunghyun in the mirror and then he turns on the clippers. He gently pushes Seunghyun’s head down and runs them up the back of his neck before either of them can hesitate.  
  
It doesn’t take long. A surprisingly short amount of time, and they don’t speak or look at each other for any of it. Jiyong focusses on what he’s doing. He can see though, on his periphery, that Seunghyun is looking everywhere but his own reflection. The hair itself is meaningless but this is ritualistic. It has painful connotations. This is hard for him.  
  
When Jiyong turns the clippers off, Seunghyun’s hair is perfectly shaved. Jiyong runs a quick hand over it, feeling the short uniform bristles beneath his fingers. It looks good. He did a decent job of it. When he looks in the mirror, Seunghyun is watching him--- watching himself. He is cataloguing the damage and what remains. His eyes glisten in the light.  
  
Jiyong unwraps the towel from Seunghyun’s shoulders and brushes stray hairs from his shirt because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what to say. When they next make eye contact in the mirror, Jiyong kneads his thumbs in the back of Seunghyun’s neck and says, ‘You look handsome’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles in answer but a tear rolls down his cheek. His eyes redden. Jiyong doesn’t know what to do to make this better. He knows instinctively that he can’t. He just crouches down so his forehead is on Seunghyun’s shoulder, and he lets him be upset.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
When Jiyong’s father shows up mid-morning, he gives him a hug and Jiyong feels a little more centred after an emotionally unsteady morning. When Seunghyun trails into the room behind him, his father shouts, _‘military man!’_ and gives Seunghyun a hard slap on the shoulder. Jiyong watches helplessly as Seunghyun gets pulled into the next room. He is cornered, the recipient of fatherly advice about what’s about to happen to him, as if Seunghyun’s father isn’t a military man himself. Then again, when has Seunghyun’s father ever been useful? Maybe whatever he is being told in the next room hasn’t been said to him before.  
  
Jiyong wants to step in and rescue him, but he doesn’t know how. It seems cruel after their morning together but his enlistment is about to happen one way or the other. There’s no use shielding themselves from it or pretending any longer. So, Jiyong lets it go. Seunghyun can extricate himself from it if he wants to.  
  
When Seunghyun finally _does_ escape, forty minutes later, Jiyong probes his father for information. He decides that nothing too traumatising passed between them. He takes the chance instead, to ask his father about his broken arm. He has to defer his enlistment but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know who to call or what to do. His father takes charge. He finds the right numbers so Jiyong can get on the phone. He agrees to fax his medical records to a dozen different people. He will have to go in for a face-to-face meeting and undergo a physical, but that will happen next week. By the time lunch is ready, he is officially deferred.  
  
Lunch is strange, in a way, with all of them together. It’s strange to hear his parents talk to Seunghyun like it’s an everyday occurrence, to hear them give him encouragement while also downplaying the reality of being estranged from your loved ones. They are trying to comfort _and_ prepare him. Jiyong doesn’t know how much of it makes a difference, but he’s proud of the way Seunghyun absorbs their words and returns their conversation, putting on a brave face.  
  
It hollows him out to think Seunghyun is here, being propped up by _his_ family instead of his own. Where is Seunghyun’s mother? His father? Don’t they _care_ about him? Don’t they want to see him? Wish him luck? _Anything?_ Seunghyun deserves better. Seunghyun deserves to be loved. That night, in bed, Jiyong asks him about it. He doesn’t want to stress him out but he has to say something. It isn’t right. His stomach aches from the unfairness of it.  
  
‘She hasn’t called you?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
Jiyong lays on his side in the dark. He can see the outline of Seunghyun’s profile, lit up by the moonlight coming through the curtains.  
  
‘Do you think she will?’  
  
‘No’.  
  
Seunghyun’s throat bobs in the dark. A hard swallow. He is trying to maintain a façade of stoicism.  
  
‘You can cry if you want’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles in the dark but keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling.  
  
‘No,’ he says. ‘I’ve cried enough. My sister will be there. That’s enough’.  
  
Jiyong wants to ask him about his father but he knows better. One day they’ll have that conversation but not today. Instead, Jiyong shuffles closer and lays his head in the crook of Seunghyun’s shoulder.  
  
‘I’ll be there’.  
  
  


  
* * *

  
  
  
  
On the first night, Jiyong sleeps like the dead, but the second night passes differently. He has nightmares. Sort of. He dreams about innocuous things and he dreams about Hyeong-bae. In the days since they were last together, Jiyong has had nightmares filled with violence, nightmares that made him scramble out of bed in fear, but this isn’t like that.   
  
In this dream, Hyeong-bae smiles and laughs. He cracks jokes. He’s a warm and safe presence. Jiyong sees him the way he was before things went wrong and he _misses_ him. In his dream, Hyeong-bae touches him and he doesn’t pull away. It isn’t sexual but intimate and maybe that’s worse.  
  
When Jiyong wakes up sweating, he tugs on his hair to make sure that he’s awake. He feels guilty. He has no control over his dreams. He _knows_ that. All the same--- who dreams things like that? How can you dream about the gentle touch of someone who has hurt you? There has to be something wrong with me, he thinks.  
  
Seunghyun stirs beside him so Jiyong drags himself out of bed and into the ensuite, quietly closing the door behind him. He checks his reflection in the mirror and wonders what the problem is. Maybe he _did_ like it. All the drama and the lies and the violence that came out of it. Maybe all that time, it _was_ on purpose. Maybe he’s just screwed up on the inside.  
  
He splashes water on his face and feels faintly ill. He sits on the ground for a while and tries to decompress. He tries to talk sense into himself. He tries not to be derailed by stupid thoughts. Dreams are dreams. They’re meaningless. He knows that. He _knows_ that.  
  
He isn’t sitting there long before the door opens. Seunghyun shuffles into the bathroom with his eyes barely open, blinded by the light. It takes him time to adjust. He looks hopelessly tired. He splashes water on his face to wake himself up. Jiyong feels sorry for waking him.  
  
‘Please go away,’ he says half-heartedly.  
  
‘What’s going on?’ Seunghyun answers. ‘Nightmare?’  
  
Jiyong shakes his head in answer. What can he say? He brushes the hair from his eyes and leans back against the side of the bath with one leg beneath him and the other stretched out along the tiles.  
  
‘You dreamed about what happened?’ Seunghyun asks.  
  
‘No’.  
  
Seunghyun sits a few feet away with his legs crossed.  
  
‘What then? Tell me about it’.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, feeling hopelessly tired. His body heavy. He feels like falling onto a mattress face first and not getting up for a thousand years. He can’t explain it. His tiredness prevents him from lying or putting up more of a fight. He simply tells the truth. He tells Seunghyun about his dream.  
  
Seunghyun lets out a slow, heavy exhale when Jiyong finishes. He takes time to formulate the right response in his head and Jiyong’s gaze drifts between Seunghyun’s face and his own knee. He wants Seunghyun to say the right thing. To tell him that it’s okay and that it doesn’t mean anything. That it doesn’t make him a bad person. That there’s nothing wrong with him.  
  
‘Do you still have feelings for him?’ Seunghyun asks. ‘When you think about when things were better, do you miss that?’  
  
‘I don’t have feelings anymore’.  
  
‘But?’  
  
‘I don’t know. It’s something else. I miss being happy maybe’.  
  
‘You’re not happy?’  
  
Jiyong hesitates. He is happy with Seunghyun but that’s only a piece of the puzzle. That isn’t the happiness Seunghyun wants him to feel. He knows the truth already.  
  
‘I’m not happy. Neither are you. I’m pre-happy, you know? I know I’ll be happy again, but I’m not there yet’.  
  
Seunghyun’s looks sympathetic.  
  
‘But my dreams? It’s not like I dream about _being_ happy, you know? The concept of _happiness._ It’s more specific. Sometimes he’s in my dreams and I don’t hate him. I miss him. In my dreams, he can touch me and I don’t pull away. Not always. When I wake up, that makes me want to peel own my skin off. Why would I have dreams like that? What’s _wrong_ with me?’  
  
He hangs his head.  
  
‘You can’t control your dreams,’ Seunghyun says, sympathetically. ‘You’ve been through a lot. It will take time. Your brain has to work through it’.  
  
‘What will I do when you’re gone?’ Jiyong smiles sadly. ‘Who’ll sit in the bathroom with me? Who’ll listen?’  
  
Seunghyun hangs his own head now, and Jiyong regrets saying that. Soon, they’ll both be alone. This is the eleventh hour and where are they? On a bathroom floor. This week away was meant to be filled with happiness and distraction. They were supposed to play make-believe. Instead, they are both fixed in reality.  
  
Seunghyun sighs and unfolds his legs. He crawls on hands and knees to sit beside him with his back against the bath and their shoulders touching. He slides a hand comfortably around Jiyong’s thigh.  
  
‘I know I won’t be here for you. You know if there was anything I could do---‘  
  
‘You don’t need to say that’.  
  
‘It doesn’t matter’ he says. ‘I wish I had answers for what happens next but I don’t. All I can say is that when I’m out and you’re out and we’re both on the other side of this, I will never not be there. That’s a promise’.  
  
Jiyong rests his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder.  
  
‘Likewise’.  
  
Seunghyun plants his cheek on Jiyong’s hair, each leaning against the other.  
  
‘Don’t beat yourself up about anything that happens in your head. Your dreams are just dreams. It’s just your brain sorting shit out. It doesn’t mean anything’.  
  
Jiyong whispers quiet thanks, knowing rationally that Seunghyun is right. He only wishes the conversation were unnecessary, that he was already at the point of not needing reassurances. He wants to skip ahead and be sure of himself again. He wants to have faith in his own mind.  
  
‘You know,’ Seunghyun says, ‘you can talk to John when I’m gone. About all this stuff. He wanted me to float that by you’.  
  
‘Why would I do that?’  
  
‘Because he knows the details, and he’s willing’.  
  
Jiyong grimaces.  
  
‘He told you things that I told him in confidence. Things he promised he’d never repeat. I made him _promise_ not to tell you, and he did. Right after. I’m happy for you to talk to him, but I don’t feel comfortable talking to him now’.  
  
‘I didn’t give him much of a choice’.  
  
‘That’s not an excuse’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles, Jiyong can feel it.  
  
‘I think there’s some leeway when your life is in danger’.  
  
‘Is there?’  
  
_‘Yes,_ ’ Seunghyun answers confidently. ‘Wouldn’t you want to know, if the situation was different? If it was me instead of you?’  
  
Jiyong pushes off Seunghyun’s shoulder to face him.  
  
‘But it _was_ you. Look what happened to you in Japan. He knew about us. He could have called me and he didn’t. If you told him our whole history like you said you did, he should have known to call me. He didn’t though. I would have jumped on the next flight. He would have known that’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles gingerly.  
  
‘That’s kind of my point. He learned from his mistake’.  
  
Jiyong frowns.  
  
‘You being there wouldn’t have solved my problems, but maybe if I had opened the door and found you there, things mightn’t have turned out as bad as they did,’ Seunghyun says. ‘Maybe sometimes we need people to intervene. He was worried about you. He wasn’t wrong.’  
  
Jiyong slumps back against Seunghyun’s shoulder.  
  
‘I’ll think about it’.  
  
For a while, they sit together on the bathroom floor, whiling away time in silence, each thinking their separate thoughts, until Seunghyun yawns and Jiyong tugs on his arm. He has kept them up long enough.  
  
They get back into bed and crawl under the blankets, where Jiyong keeps his unwanted thoughts at bay by squeezing Seunghyun’s hand and feeling him squeeze back.  


 

  
* * *

 

 

The next day is better. In the morning, they go for a walk through the woods and it’s nice to be out in the open together. The sun shines and the breeze feels nice on their skin. Seunghyun complains after a while about his freshly shaved head burning in the sun, so Jiyong hands over his bucket hat and Seunghyun transforms into an ajusshi going fishing.  
  
‘But when _you_ wear it it’s a fashion statement?’  
  
‘Everything I wear becomes a trend,’ Jiyong gloats. As if to prove it, he picks a bundle of weeds peppered with small white flowers and shoves them in his pocket so they’re hanging over the band.  
  
‘You just wait. When you get back to Seoul, you’re going to see _100_ guys doing this’.  
  
They laugh and tease and joke around. The exercise feels good too. The burn in his legs and lungs after climbing a steep hill makes him feel better in his mind. Hauling Seunghyun up after him feels like a gift. Spending this time together is a gift.  
  
On a little ridge above the pension, they sit down and eat together. Snacks mostly, things they could fit in their pockets, but it’s nice. They talk about all kinds of things, mostly silly stuff. Forgotten memories about mutual friends. Stuff going on in the news.  
  
They lie down together with their hands held between them. They don’t worry about passers-by. The day seems too perfect and too good for any interruptions. Besides, it’s private property. There shouldn’t be anyone around. Even if there was someone, they would hear them long before they came too close.  
  
Jiyong closes his eyes against the sun above and allows sweat to bead on his skin. It ekes in between their held hands but they don’t let go of each other. A week from now they’ll miss the chance to touch. Jiyong tries not to think about that. He thinks ahead instead, to a shared house in the middle of nowhere, where they could lie in the grass together like this. Somewhere the sun shines and birds chirp and problems that seem insurmountable in Seoul lose their intensity. He thinks about life after _this_ , life after their separation, life after stress, life after confusion and doubt.  
  
The heat from the sun makes him lethargic and wistful and Jiyong hums a familiar tune, though he can’t remember where he heard it. The radio perhaps, or on the television. He tries to figure out its origin. He tries to put words to the song but finds himself writing his own. He hums it for Seunghyun but he doesn’t know it either.  
  
‘Maybe you came up with it yourself,’ Seunghyun answers, equally tired and lethargic, slowly baking in the sun. He has the bucket hat over his face to protect himself.  
  
‘I doubt it,’ Jiyong answers, rolling onto his side while maintaining their held hands. ‘It’s too familiar’.  
  
‘You’ve been mumbling that for weeks. It’s familiar because of _you’_.  
  
‘So where did I hear it?’  
  
‘I really think that’s yours. You don’t remember any lyrics?’  
  
‘No. I tried just now but I keep putting in my own’.  
  
‘It seems obvious that it’s your tune. But, sing it for me anyway,’ Seunghyun suggests. ‘Let’s see. Put your own words in it’.  
  
Jiyong scoffs but does it anyway. He adds whatever lyrics roll off his tongue or come into his head first and as he does, the song unfolds and unravels. A light flickers into existence in a dark part of his mind. A veil gets pulled back and Seunghyun is right. This is _his_ song. It’s been in his head for months. Bits and pieces would knock around his brain at the worst possible times and he would brush them away. Too busy. Too stressed. Too fearful to even try. Now, the seed of the idea comes back to him and it begins to take shape.  
  
Seunghyun props himself up on his elbow and they finally release their hands at last, sweaty and sticky like children’s. Seunghyun puts his phone between them and turns on the voice recorder. Jiyong rolls onto his stomach and mumbles his tune. He tries different lyrics and every now and then Seunghyun smiles from beneath his hat and Jiyong feels something in his gut, some latent sense of achievement. Some promise of a future reward.  
  


  
*  


 

When they get back from their little excursion, they part ways for a bit. Jiyong spends the better part of an hour in the bath, constantly emptying and refilling it until his skin turns pink, and Seunghyun does his own thing. When Jiyong finally crawls out of the bath and re-joins his family, relaxed and squeaky clean, Seunghyun is M.I.A. He finds his mother alone in the kitchen preparing lunch.  
  
‘Have you seen Seunghyun?’  
  
‘You can’t hear them?’  
  
Jiyong pauses where he stands and tilts his head like a dog, as if that will bring him focus. Stupidly, it does. He hears Seunghyun’s voice rise and fall, like on a current. A moment later his father laughs.  
  
‘They’re outside? _Together?_ ’  
  
‘Take a look,’ she answers, pointing to the far window.  
  
He presses his face against the glass and cranes his neck, trying to see around the corner that’s obstructing his view of outside. They must be sitting at one of the tables out there.  
  
‘What are they talking about?’  
  
Is isn’t like his father and Seunghyun have a long history of sustained conversations. Small talk is a feat. They only click if there’s a third party in the room. It’s been like that for fifteen years.  
  
‘Your father took beers out, they could be talking about anything’.  
  
‘Seunghyun doesn’t drink,’ Jiyong answers, returning to the counter. He pulls a lettuce leaf from the pack and folds it into his mouth. It tastes bitter. He’s half tempted to spit it out. A knowing look from his mother prevents him.  
  
‘Seunghyun? Every time I see him he gives me wine. What do you mean he doesn’t drink?’  
  
‘He’s a recovering alcoholic,’ Jiyong answers quickly, avoiding eye contact. ‘He hasn’t had a drink for months’.  
  
When he lifts his eyes again, his mother looks awestruck and Jiyong can’t tell which way her face will ultimately fall. Everyone drinks. Isn’t it abnormal for Seunghyun not to? That’s what people must think, alcoholic or not. It’s just the way things are.  
  
‘Oh,’ she says eventually. ‘Well, good for him, I suppose’.  
  
The budding knot in Jiyong’s chest unravels. He sighs from sheer relief. Suddenly, it matters what his mother thinks of Seunghyun. It matters how she sees him on this trip. How she seems him as a person full-stop.  
  
‘Were you drinking when you had your car accident?’  
  
Jiyong freezes on his second run at the bag of lettuce. He withdraws his hand in shock,\ and shoves it in his pocket instead.  
  
‘No,’ he answers. ‘I wouldn’t do that’.  
  
‘People do’.  
  
‘ _I_ didn’t’.  
  
She shrugs. Jiyong grinds his teeth. He watches her chop a length of greens, scooping them into the pan. It hurts that she might think that of him, but what else can he tell her? The suggestion is there. He’s always been a careful driver, but he and Seunghyun collectively look like shit. Airbags in the fucking face and side shit. Front-on collision type _shit_.  
  
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he says.  
  
‘I didn’t say anything’.  
  
‘You didn’t say you believed me’.  
  
‘No’.  
  
_‘Mom’._  
  
She turns to face him.  
  
‘I wouldn’t _do_ that,’ he tells her. ‘I didn’t get into an accident because I was drunk. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve never done that before. Never.’  
  
She scrutinises his face and Jiyong hopes she sees the truth in it and believes him. It shouldn’t matter to him but it does. It would matter if she thought the worst of him. This week is important to him. He needs her to not only think the best of Seunghyun, but of himself too.  
  
‘I didn’t think so,’ she says, softening. ‘I believe you. A mother has to ask’.  
  
The suspicion ekes away and he feels the air lighten around him. He reaches into the salad again and gets his wrist slapped for his efforts, escaping with a single spinach leaf. He moves to the opposite side of the counter and sits on a bar stool.  
  
‘What do you think they’re talking about outside, really?’  
  
‘I have no idea,’ she answers, ‘but they’re having a good time. Why don’t you go out and join them’.  
  
Jiyong thinks about it but slumps, not wanting to be in the weird atmosphere that would materialise if he did join them. He’s not sure he could watch Seunghyun chum it up with his father, not knowing how his father would react if he knew the truth about them. Omission isn’t a lie, but it feels like one.   
  
For a moment, he imagines going outside and telling his father on a whim. _Hey dad, having a nice time? Here’s the thing. This guy right here? We’re a package deal._ Cue his father’s stupor of confusion before he staggers back from the bench in fear. Jiyong wonders if it would happen that way. Maybe there’s a 0.001% chance his dad might say ‘oh,’ and deal with it instead.  
  
Jiyong pinches another lettuce leaf while his mother has her head in the fridge, and wonders what she would say if he told _her_. He doesn’t get far into his reveries before Seunghyun’s mother starts kicking up dust in his memories like a shitty nightmarish ghost. He’ll never forget that day in Seunghyun’s kitchen, not for the rest of his life. His mother eviscerated him emotionally and they _still_ aren’t speaking to each other. Seunghyun enlists in a week and his mother hasn’t reached out to him, and probably won’t either. How must that feel? If to him, a bystander, it feels so suffocatingly unfair, how is Seunghyun coping, being made to carry that burden and loss?  
  
His mother notices his changed expression and asks if he’s alright.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Jiyong answers. ‘Just thinking’.  
  
He watches his mother work in the kitchen and this feeling emerges in his gut. Something that struck him when they first arrived days earlier. The anxiety that comes from inevitability. He is working up to something. He knows that now, and the _knowing_ makes his stomach churn.  
  
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘It’s kind of nice having Seunghyun around, right? Like he’s part of the family or something?’  
  
She smiles and sounds genuine in her answer.  
  
‘It _is_ nice. It’s a nice change from the usual’.  
  
‘But you like _him_ , right? I mean you like him as a person, not just because you’re obligated to be nice to him?’  
  
She laughs and tips some mushrooms into the pot.  
  
‘I like all the boys. I don’t need to tell you’.  
  
Jiyong smiles wanly, somehow disappointed, unsure what answer he expected or where he wanted this conversation to go. This isn’t the right time anyway. It will never be the right time, but now more than most. He has to wait until Seunghyun leaves. He needs to make sure their last days together are free from stress and potential hurt.  
  
‘Why is he here though?’ His mother asks. ‘Why isn’t he with his own family? Won’t they be missing him?’  
  
Jiyong shrugs and fails to hide the disappointment on his face.  
  
‘It’s complicated. I can’t talk about it. His sister is going to pick him up from here the day before he goes in and he’ll spend his last night with her, but his parents?’ Jiyong picks a piece of carrot off the counter and puts it in his mouth. ‘Forget about it. You, me and dad? This is all he’s going to get’.  
  
Jiyong feels a flash of remorse, remembering that Seunghyun’s last night will be spent away from him. They agreed to it last night before they went to bed. Seunghyun’s sister called and made a judicious plea to see him and Seunghyun agreed to spend his very last night of freedom in her guest room to maximise that last-minute family time. Jiyong agreed, of course. He gave up those hours with a smile on his face. He wants Seunghyun to see his sister and his nephew. He deserves _one_ relative who isn’t a complete asshole.  
  
Still, he feels the loss of half a day and night keenly. At least he can drive Seunghyun’s car back to Seoul. Driving to that enlistment ceremony might be one percent easier if he can show up in Seunghyun’s car. Good associations, or something.  
  
His mother stops what she’s doing for a moment and rests her hands on the chopping board. She looks concerned or maybe sad, debating whether to probe further.  
  
‘Well,’ she says, after a time. ‘I suppose we should do something nice for him. Buy a cake or something. Throw a little party’.  
  
Jiyong smiles, genuinely heartened by her reaction and by her not prying into the situation for details that he can’t give her. She simply takes his words at face value.  
  
‘I think he’s happy just being here’.  


 

 

*

 

 

That night, in bed, with their legs entangled, in matching sets of embarrassing pyjamas, Jiyong warns Seunghyun in the dark.  
  
‘I think mom is going to throw a party for you’.  
  
‘For what?’  
  
‘To say goodbye, I guess. I let slip that your family suck and we’re all you’ve got’.  
  
‘Very pitiful, thank-you’.  
  
Jiyong bridges the space between them and plants a chaste and tender kiss on Seunghyun’s lips.  
  
‘She wanted to know why you were here and not with your family. I said it was complicated’.  
  
‘I guess that’s the truth’.  
  
‘And I told her not to throw a party and she agreed’.  
  
‘So?’  
  
‘So, she’s almost definitely going to throw a party anyway. Probably tomorrow. You’d be amazed what can happen in twenty-four hours’.  
  
Seunghyun slides an arm under Jiyong’s waist and pulls him in a little closer.  
  
‘A party for the four of us? How bad can it be?’  
  
Jiyong manoeuvres his way into a comfortable spot, with their legs criss-crossed and his face in Seunghyun’s chest.  
  
‘How naïve’.  
  


 

* * *

 

 

When Jiyong rolls out of bed in the early hours and leaves Seunghyun sleeping in bed, he isn’t surprised to find his mother making a list of party supplies in the kitchen. She looks at him sheepishly, busted immediately, and slides the notepad across the counter for approval. Jiyong hauls his tired body onto the stool and reads over the list, consisting of very adult items like wines (crossed out) and fancy cheeses--- stuff Seunghyun likes, and then incredibly juvenile things, the sort likely to make appearances at birthday parties for children. Basically, it’s a very Seunghyun appropriate list.  
  
‘Who are you going to invite?’ he asks.  
  
‘Nobody,’ she answers. ‘You’ll do it. You must know who to call. Get whoever you can on short notice’.  
  
‘And this is happening _tonight?_ ’  
  
‘Of course! A party tonight and then tomorrow night will be just us together, just family,’ she says.  
  
Jiyong smiles and lists forward at _family_ , like maybe this is the right time to talk, but she straightens suddenly, remembering a forgotten thing and disappears into the pantry. Jiyong cuts his losses and decides a party isn’t a terrible idea. It doesn’t seem right for Seunghyun to go away without seeing people who matter to him, or the people who love him; even if things _have_ been strained for a while, even if there _has_ been distance. He knows if he makes those calls, enough people will show up to wish Seunghyun well. Maybe after everything that’s happened, that’s what he needs. His family are phantoms but he still has friends.  
  
It will be difficult to have Seunghyun’s attention divided when they only have two days left together, and he has already sacrificed time to Seunghyun’s sister, but denying him the chance to see other people is selfish and Jiyong thinks, maybe, seeing mutual friends might be nice for him as well. He has barely seen a soul in two years, only sporadic nights out followed by radio silence for months on end. When Seunghyun is gone, Jiyong will have to re-build bridges. A _lot_ of them. Maybe this can be a tentative first step.  
  
So, while Seunghyun sleeps, Jiyong starts making his calls. Daesung first, then Youngbae. Seungri is on a plane to Singapore so he calls dancers next, close managers, and then Seunghyun’s friends he doesn’t know that well, actors and other showbiz types that he has never interacted with. The rest, he’ll call with Seunghyun’s permission when he wakes up. His art friends and whoever else is left.  
  
By the time Seunghyun wakes up an hour later, there are at least twenty people coming and dozens more to call.  

 


	34. Chapter 34

  
  
  
‘It’s not a good idea!’ Jiyong says, frustrated.  
  
His mother looks at him like he’s being a petulant child and Seunghyun raises his hands in supplication, taking her side. He talks with deference.  
  
‘We can’t have a party without any alcohol,’ he says coolly.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘People will ask why, for starters, and I don’t want to tell everyone I know that I’ve got a problem’.  
  
‘Isn’t that better than risking it?’  
  
Jiyong’s mother raises her hands in defeat and tells them both to decide amongst themselves. It is mid-afternoon, a few hours out from the party, and she has sent his father off to buy an inordinate amount of alcohol. So much that he’s taken the shuttle van instead of the car. Jiyong can’t seem to get it into anyone’s head that a van full of alcohol plus a recovering alcoholic is a terrible combination. What happened the last time Seunghyun was in a social situation with alcohol? He relapsed. The repercussions of that night at the club almost tore them apart forever.  
  
Seunghyun sidles up to him and rests a sly hand on his hip. He speaks quietly and placatingly, but the sound of it makes Jiyong’s jaw clench in frustration.    
  
‘I will be fine. I promise you’.  
  
‘How can you promise that?’ Jiyong answers. ‘This is a bad idea. Don’t you remember last time?’  
  
‘I don’t think _you_ remember last time,’ Seunghyun says. ‘When Daesung and Youngbae came back and we all went to that restaurant? I didn’t touch a drop’.  
  
Jiyong frowns. He had forgotten that night, but it hardly matters. The statistics alone make Seunghyun’s track record 50/50. What if something happens between now and tonight? What if something happens in the evening? Some little thing that snowballs and Seunghyun thinks to himself, _just one sip_ \---  
  
With no-one around, Seunghyun takes the opportunity to interlock their fingers, arms hanging between them.  
  
‘I need you trust me,’ he says quietly. ‘I know myself. I’m not worried. I’ll be fine’.  
  
Jiyong frowns further and rolls his eyes. He’s trying to do the right thing. He’s trying to be considerate. He’s trying to cover all the bases here. To _protect_ him. Is that so unreasonable?  
  
‘Should I avoid socialising for the rest of my life?’ Seunghyun asks.  
  
‘No, just alcohol when possible, and it’s possible _tonight_. All these people are coming here for you. They would understand’.  
  
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Seunghyun answers, squeezing his fingers. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to tell people this thing about me, okay? I’m not ready. I’m telling you I’ll be fine. I want people to have fun tonight. I don’t need you to lock me up and throw away the key, and I don’t need you to follow me around all night either. Don’t worry about me. _Please’._  
  
‘Seunghyun’.  
  
‘You should drink tonight and have fun, okay? You could use a night of letting go’.  
  
Jiyong shakes his fingers free from Seunghyun’s grip.  
  
‘I’m not going to drink’.  
  
‘Why not? Are you an alcoholic too?’  
  
Jiyong feels a swell of frustration puff out his chest.  
  
‘This isn’t a joke! You want me to stumble into bed drunk?’  
  
‘Sure. It’ll make you easy,’ Seunghyun answers in jest. He is trying to diffuse the situation, and to assuage his fears but his jokes do the opposite. They rile Jiyong up and upset him. They remind him that he lacks control.  
  
Jiyong knocks Seunghyun in the stomach and shakes himself free.  
  
‘Do what you like’.  


  
  
  
*  


  
  
  
With thirty minutes left until the earliest guests arrive, Seunghyun knocks on the ensuite door and speaks through it, his voice muffled but cautious.  
  
‘Are you still mad at me?’  
  
Jiyong opens the door with a frown.  
  
‘That depends how the night goes’.  
   
Seunghyun slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Jiyong ignores him. He tidies up the brown eyeshadow on his lids with his finger. He found an old palette in the bottom drawer and thought some depth might make him look more alive. He had to put a bit of make-up on to minimise his bruises. Mostly faded now, a little concealer did the trick. He doesn’t want people asking questions about their shared injuries, healing up but still there for anyone looking hard enough. The car accident story won’t fly in a room full of 150 people asking questions, because that’s how many are coming. One hundred and fifty people and however many plus one’s. The phone calls to Seunghyun’s friends and mutual friends were just the first stage of a series of chain calls, with one person contacting the next who contacted the next. Now, they are expecting a full house.  
  
Jiyong steps back from the mirror and takes in his reflection. It was a struggle to find a shirt that fit over his cast, but he found a semi-transparent long-sleeved number that hides the cast moderately well. It will still be visible, but unless people are really looking, most won’t notice it. He’ll have to tell people about it regardless. No-one knows that his enlistment has been delayed, only the few he told when he invited them, but he doesn’t want people looking at it. The thought of people probing him for information makes him tired, and no excuse seems good enough. _It’s broken._ That’s all he’ll say. How? _Doesn’t matter._

All in all, he looks good enough and he feels comfortable. He looks more alive with concealer on his face and some colour around his eyes. Less washed out and tired. He didn’t bring any nice clothes with him, so these are all he’s got.  
  
‘You look nice,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
Jiyong looks at him in the mirror and frowns. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s still frustrated. About the alcohol. About not having control over it. About not being able to keep Seunghyun safe from the world and the things that can hurt him. That Seunghyun doesn’t _want_ him to. Maybe, that most of all.  
  
‘Thanks’.  
  
Seunghyun moves behind him so they’re making eye contact in the mirror.  
  
‘I can’t get through tonight if you’re mad at me’.  
  
Jiyong drops his gaze but ultimately turns around so they’re facing one another.  
  
‘I’m not mad, I’m worried. I’m _always_ going to worry. I want everything to be okay. It makes me angry that I can’t promise that. It frustrates me. I feel helpless or something. I’m _sorry’._  
  
Seunghyun rests his hands on Jiyong’s hips and looks at him softly. He speaks quietly.  
  
‘I appreciate that and I love you for it, but you have to let go sometimes. You can’t be in control all the time’.  
  
Jiyong drops his gaze to stare at the fabric of Seunghyun’s shirt. Letting go is easier said than done. Every miserable second of his life over the past few years has been a product of not letting go, of trying desperately to maintain some control. How could it not be? Everything he’s ever gained in life has been a product of him taking control. That’s how he survived. How he thrived for so long. How does he let go? How does he know when to do that and when not to?  
  
Seunghyun pulls him in and Jiyong allows it, reluctantly.  
  
‘Please don’t worry about me,’ Seunghyun says, sincerely. ‘After everything we’ve been through? Trust me. If I ever need your help, I’ll ask for it’.  
  
Jiyong sighs but lifts his head, finding Seunghyun’s eyes.  
  
‘Promise me’.  
   
‘I promise’.  
  
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

 

The party kicks off from the first few guests alone, with bottles of beer and spirits emptied within the first twenty minutes. His parents have retired to a distant part of the house so the music is unconscionably loud and within an hour of the first guest arriving, the main areas of the pension are choked with people. He and Seunghyun inevitably separate and Jiyong drifts through the crowd, stopping for a short time with friends, explaining on a loop that he broke his wrist and won’t be enlisting for another few months, so this night is for Seunghyun alone, not the two of them. He tries to be animated and to smile and laugh and engage with people’s stories and jokes. He wants everyone to know that his self-imposed isolation is coming to an end. Not quite there yet, but on the way. He wants people to see that he is making an effort.  
  
He promises a handful of people that he’s coming out of exile and they’ll hang out soon; he’ll pick up the phone, he’ll go out on weekends, things will start happening in the imminent future and for the most part, he means that. His agreements aren’t just platitudes, but hopeful and tentative plans. Around the two-hour mark, he starts to genuinely have a nice time. His laughs aren’t as calculated, and his smiles more spontaneous. It is nice to be surrounded by people without a cloud hanging over him. Despite his earlier protestations, he does have a drink or two. Not enough to get drunk, but enough to be social and to feel the faintest effects which make it that little bit easier to let go. It is freeing to socialise without holding something back and without feeling like he has a dirty little secret. When he went out and left Hyeong-bae at home, he always felt guilty or conscious of it, worried that people might look at him and _know_. With Seunghyun it is different. He has never felt that guilt or that self-consciousness.  
  
When Jiyong needs a breather, he ducks outside onto an empty balcony and lights a cigarette. He tries to decompress. He watches the reflection of the moon play on the water. It is peaceful, even with the bass of the music indoors leaking out. Despite the silence, he doesn’t allow his mind to wander. There is a faint voice in the back of his head trying to drag him into the past, or days into the future maybe, when he’ll have to deal with what’s happened. He shuts it down. He forces it away. He stays outside long enough to smoke a second cigarette.  
  
He stubs the second smoke out against the railing and turns at the sound of the sliding door opening behind him---- it’s Youngbae.  
  
They haven’t been alone together since he got out. They haven’t seen each other face to face since that reunion at the restaurant. It has been weeks. Jiyong feels unprepared somehow. Anxious. He feels a swell of emotion at the sight of him but also a niggling feeling in his gut to be distant.  
  
‘You just got here?’ he asks.  
  
‘A few minutes ago. Fashionably late’.  
  
Youngbae joins him at the railing and hangs his elbows over it. He doesn’t say anything else, or make eye-contact, content to stare into the darkness at the faint reflection of light on the water. Jiyong wants to say something first but he doesn’t know what. They’ve spoken a few times on the phone but things between them aren’t _normal_. They aren’t what they were before Youngbae went away and everything _happened_. There’s a barrier between them of his own making and Jiyong doesn’t know how to tear it down. He can’t tell the truth to explain himself and Youngbae deserves better than a lie. Everything just feels a little off. Friendship adjacent.  
  
‘Hyorin’s not with you?’  
  
‘She started filming in Busan yesterday’.  
  
Youngbae turns on his side. He rests his hip on the railing and folds his arms across his chest. He has done it for as long as they’ve known each other. Though four feet apart, Jiyong crumbles under the weight of Youngbae’s scrutiny. He can sense the oncoming wave before it hits him.  
  
‘I miss you,’ Youngbae says.  
  
Jiyong almost lists towards him. He has missed Youngbae too much. More than he has been willing to admit or even think about. It was easier _not_ to think about him when everything fell apart. Easier to create a new and separate Kwon Jiyong that didn’t have attachments or needs or friendships that were necessary for his survival. Easier to cope on a daily basis by ignoring everything that came before Seunghyun leaving.  
  
 ‘I’m right here,’ Jiyong quips. It’s an unfair thing to say. Youngbae’s tone is heartfelt and sincere. He knows there’s a problem. He deserves more than a dismissal but Jiyong can’t pull together a good answer. He freezes up.    
  
‘You broke your arm,’ Youngbae says.  
   
‘Yeah’.  
  
‘The other day when you called me, that’s why? You needed someone to take you to the hospital?’ He poses it like a question, but it isn’t one. Someone must have told him. Seungri maybe, jesting that he was the first call. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Youngbae asks. ‘You know I would have come back’.  
  
‘You were spending the day with your girlfriend and her family. It was just a fracture,’ Jiyong says. ‘It wasn’t a big deal’.  
  
Youngbae frowns.  
  
‘It would have been a big deal before. So, why isn’t it now?’ he says seriously. ‘Why is everything different now? I’ve been back for weeks and I’ve barely seen or heard from you. And before that? When I was away? You didn’t send me letters like you said you would. A few at the start and then nothing. You just disappeared’.  
  
Jiyong breaks eye contact and stares at his shoes. He feels guilt rise in him like water in a sealed room. He did do that. He could have sent letters but he didn’t. He left his best friend out to dry. He didn’t even try. It was easier not to. It seemed impossible when Seunghyun first left to feign happiness, and then Hyeong-bae came along and he didn’t feel like himself anymore. A separation grew between his old life and the new. Youngbae got left behind. If he forgot about everyone he loved, it was easier to survive. Easier not to miss people. Easier to start again with nothing.  
  
‘I just want to know what’s going on,’ Youngbae says emphatically, not wasting any more time on their half conversations, or on tip-toeing around the elephant in the room. ‘No-one has seen you. Friends are telling me you’ve been M.I.A the whole time I’ve been gone. You didn’t release any music. You weren’t working. What have you been doing all this time?’  
  
He sounds frustrated. Disappointed maybe or let down. This is the first time they’ve been alone together since he came back and the cracks become larger with each word. What is left of their relationship?  
  
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Youngbae says sadly. ‘When we talk on the phone now, it’s not the same. It’s like you’re pretending. It doesn’t feel like you’re my best friend anymore’.  
  
Jiyong’s stomach aches from guilt. He needs to press pause on this conversation. He needs room to breathe. What can he say? An excuse? A girlfriend maybe? A serious relationship would throw Youngbae off the scent. Only, he doesn’t want to lie about that. Saying that would create more questions and deeper lies and he's had enough of it.  
  
‘What’s going on?’ Youngbae pressures him. ‘You broke your arm and didn’t tell me. Your enlistment is delayed and you didn’t tell me. Why aren’t you talking to me? To anybody? You’ve been cagey for weeks but decided to throw this huge party at the last minute? I don’t understand’.  
  
Something in Jiyong swells and snaps and he blurts out his answer in desperation, to get Youngbae to _stop._ He knows him too well. He knows how he _probes_ and prods and pokes so he can _fix_ things, so he can be the supportive friend with _all_ the information. Jiyong blurts out his answer so loud, he prays nobody else hears him.  
  
‘Youngbae--- I had a _breakdown_ , okay?’  
  
He slumps and breaks eye contact. He pulls a fresh cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. He takes a long drag and scuffs his shoe along the concrete. There is nothing he wouldn’t give to skip ahead. To not have to go through this. To not have to lie or avoid the truth. To have the strength and confidence to think telling Youngbae the whole truth was okay.  
  
‘I had a breakdown and I did nothing for two years. That’s it,’ Jiyong says. ‘I sat in my apartment alone and depressed. The end. That’s the big secret. I’m surprised nobody told you that’.  
  
It feels like a lifetime ago now, but right at the beginning, he went out one night and drank. Xin asked if he was having a breakdown and another acquaintance had outright joked about it. Jiyong always assumed that theory would have circulated and gathered steam. Wasn’t it obvious at the start?  
  
‘Nobody said anything like that,’ Youngbae answers, quietly. ‘What happened?’  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
_‘Something,’_ he says, ‘and then it just snowballed. There was no stopping it once it started’.  
  
Looking at the water, he can see Youngbae on his periphery with a face full of emotion and sympathy, and Jiyong can’t face him because this love and kindness and well-meaning inquiries will shatter his fragile stability. He needs to keep it together until Seunghyun leaves. He can’t let his carefully constructed calm be broken. _Not yet_.  
  
‘And now?’ Youngbae asks. ‘Two years is a long time’.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Jiyong shrugs. ‘I know’.  
  
He doesn’t know what else to say. This is too big a conversation to have in the middle of a party on a cold balcony. Maybe it’s too big a conversation for them at any time. If things were different--- Jiyong wonders if he could ever tell Youngbae the truth. The whole truth. He wonders if he would have the stomach for it.  
  
‘Things are getting better now,’ Jiyong says instead, forcing himself to make eye contact. He smiles reassuringly and shrugs. ‘I’ll be okay’.  
  
Youngbae looks disbelieving but they still _know_ each other, even after this. Maybe Youngbae can sense the timing isn’t right for details, because he doesn’t push.  
  
‘Are you going to tell me about it?’  
  
Jiyong shakes his head and takes a drag of his cigarette.  
  
‘Not right now. I’m not quite there yet. Maybe one day’.  
  
Youngbae leans against the railing and stares a hole right through him. He doesn’t say anything. He looks pensive. Jiyong knows his explanation isn’t good enough, even if it is true. It doesn’t make up for lost time and it’s not an apology, and that’s what Youngbae deserves maybe. What everyone in his life deserves. Hasn’t he treated everyone like accessories to be discarded? Even if it wasn’t intentional. Youngbae sighs and runs a hand through his hair, like he doesn’t know what to say or do.  
  
‘Well, at least you didn’t move on and make new friends, I guess’.  
  
Jiyong laughs and his voice wavers.  
  
‘Was that one of your theories?’  
  
‘No. Maybe for a minute’.  
  
Jiyong smiles. Before that reunion at the restaurant didn’t he feel gripped by fear at the possibility Youngbae had moved on and formed better relationships with other people? They are still alike in some ways.  
  
Jiyong drops his cigarette and stubs it out with his toe, acting before he can talk himself out of it. He simply bridges the short distance between them and throws his arms around Youngbae’s shoulders. He bear-hugs him. He holds onto him and doesn’t let go, and the second Youngbae’s arms fold around him in return, words spill out of him that he has no control over.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit friend,’ he says into Youngbae’s shoulder. ‘I’ve missed you. Like _really_ missed you. I missed you every fucking day you were gone. More than you’ll _ever_ know. I should have done more to keep in touch. I’m so sorry’.  
  
‘It’s okay’.  
  
‘No it’s not. You’ve always had time for me. _Always._ I didn’t even throw a proper party when you came back. I should have done more. There was so much going on, it was hard to think about other people. I was selfish. I should have done things differently. _Better._ I fucked a lot of things up, but you’re my best friend and I should have tried harder with you. You deserve better than that. I’m sorry. I’ve really fucking missed you. I’ve said that already but It’s true. I’ve _missed_ you. I’ve _fucking missed you_. I’m so glad you’re home’.  
  
Youngbae presses his fingers into Jiyong’s shoulders so hard it hurts and they both pass embarrassed and emotional messages into each other’s shirts, holding onto each other long past what an ordinary person would find comfortable, but it’s okay because maybe this is the real reunion. Maybe that night in the restaurant was a dream and this is the moment that counts. Youngbae offers up absolution for each of Jiyong’s apologies. He brushes them off like they’re nothing and maybe they are nothing. Maybe they’ve been friends for so long that bumps in the road mean nothing as long as the car stays on the asphalt.  
  
Jiyong doesn’t cry but his eyes water. When they separate, Youngbae’s are glistening as well. They both clear their throats and laugh it off. Youngbae congratulates him on his broken arm.  
  
‘You bought us three more months together’.  
  
‘You’re welcome,’ Jiyong jests. ‘I did it all for you’.  
  
They laugh and joke around for a while, then Youngbae asks the final difficult question, which turns out to be not so difficult after all.  
  
‘What’s the deal with this party?’ Youngbae asks. ‘I thought you and Seunghyun seemed different when I last saw you. You guys have been hanging out more?’  
  
‘He’s been staying here this week,’ Jiyong says honestly. Calm. ‘He’s been having a rough time as well, and misery loves company, right? The party was mom’s idea’.  
  
‘Should I be jealous? Is he your best friend now?’  
  
Jiyong smiles and nods towards the door.  
  
‘We should head back inside. It’s cold. You can both fight for my affection, how about that?’  
   
  
  


  
*  


 

 

They return to the party and talk a while longer, then mingle together and get separated, the way people do at parties. Daesung’s laugh filters over people’s heads at one point and Jiyong wants to find him but there are so many people, he feels suffocated. He ducks out of the crowd for a while, sneaking back into his bedroom for five minutes, to breathe and relax before he heads back into the fray. When he closes the door behind him, the quiet washes over him. He is only a little surprised to find Seunghyun laying on the bed already.  
  
‘Hey’.  
  
_‘Hey’._  
  
Jiyong kicks his shoes off and crawls over Seunghyun’s body to lay down on the other side of him. He exhales loudly and rolls onto his side, squashing his face into the pillow. Seunghyun does the same so they’re facing each other.  
  
‘What are you doing in here?’  
  
‘Taking five minutes to breathe,’ Jiyong answers. ‘What are _you_ doing in here?’  
  
‘Taking ten’.  
  
Jiyong smiles and pokes Seunghyun’s arm.  
  
‘How is it? Tonight? Seeing people?’  
  
‘Nice,’ Seunghyun answers honestly, and that’s the truth, Jiyong can see it in his body language. Seunghyun is content and relaxed. They have both been struggling and self-isolating for so long, tonight’s success feels like a milestone. ‘It’s been nice to see people,’ Seunghyun clarifies. ‘For once, I’m not stuck in my head, you know? I’m happy to see old friends. When I laugh, it’s real. There’s not so much pretending’.  
  
‘I’m happy for you,’ Jiyong says. He crosses the space between them to plant a chaste kiss on Seunghyun’s lips. ‘But you should get back out there,’ he says afterwards. ‘The party’s not over yet’.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
‘It can wait. Tonight has been nice but this is my favourite part so far’.  
  
Jiyong grins, feeling a flush of warmth.  
  
‘That’s corny’.  
  
_‘Very’._  
  
Seunghyun smiles and Jiyong’s stays. He feels a wash of relief and freedom. He feels unburdened. This moment feels preternaturally nice. Maybe everything they’ve been through has been worth it to have moments like these, little pockets of time in between the big events. Brief bubbles of happiness and comfort and safety. After speaking to Youngbae, even only vaguely, Jiyong feels sentimental.  
  
‘I spoke to Youngbae earlier’.  
  
‘Oh?’  
  
‘I said some stuff I should have said ages ago,’ Jiyong confesses. ‘I’ve been a bad friend to him, and everyone else. I have a lot of bridges to rebuild. It’s going to be hard’.  
  
‘It will. But you have time’.  
  
‘Yeah,’ Jiyong whispers. ‘Either way, I think tonight was a success. For both of us’.  
  
‘You and your mom are _excellent_ party planners,’ Seunghyun concedes.  
  
‘The new family business’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and shifts his position slightly, to get more comfortable. It’s strange not seeing his hair messy against the pillow. Jiyong reaches out and runs a gentle hand over the short bristling hair remaining. He doesn’t say anything and Seunghyun doesn’t mention it. He just says something else entirely.  
  
‘I talked to Youngbae earlier too. I think he’s going to marry Hyorin’.  
  
Jiyong pulls his hand back.  
  
‘Did he say something to you?’  
  
‘No. He just has a vibe,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I think he’s going to propose soon’.  
  
‘He _is_ giving off a scent. It kind of makes me jealous’.  
  
‘Which part?’  
  
Jiyong pouts, in thought.  
  
‘All of it, I guess. They’re _allowed._ They can have an ordinary life together. They can hold hands in public. They can do what they like,’ Jiyong says. ‘Meanwhile, you and me? Skulking in the shadows. Youngbae gets to tell me about his life, and I can’t do the same. Who do I call when you annoy me and I need to complain? Nobody! I just have to _simmer!’_  
  
Seunghyun laughs and Jiyong takes on a serious tone.  
  
‘Who do I call when I want everyone to know I’m in love?’  
  
Seunghyun smiles softly.  
  
‘Now who’s being corny?’  
  
‘Not me,’ Jiyong jests. ‘I just don’t want everyone thinking I’m unlovable!’  
  
He lays his good hand between them and Seunghyun interlocks their fingers. It’s a comforting gesture, one Jiyong has become used to over the last few days. There’s something simple but gratifying in holding each other’s hand. It reminds him of when they younger and a held hand meant they were bashful, not simply comfortable.  
  
‘You know, I remember the night we first slept together,’ Jiyong says, struck by a memory.  
  
Seunghyun raises his eyebrows in a lewd gesture.  
  
‘I don’t mean the _sex_ ,’ Jiyong admonishes him, ‘I mean the stuff we talked about that night. It was a long time ago, I know, but do you remember any of that?’  
  
‘I do’.  
  
‘You said you could already see ten years ahead. You were worried what our lives would be like if we were still together. You thought it might cause problems for us. That it would be hard. You said you were scared because you were already thinking about those things’.  
  
‘I’m surprised you remember that’.  
  
‘I remember all kinds of things,’ Jiyong answers. ‘But, tell me. Is this what you imagined? When you saw our future in your head, what was it like?’  
  
Seunghyun takes time formulating an answer, like it’s too big a question for mere words. In the end, he is succinct. It’s a mere footnote of an answer, but Jiyong knows the whole of it anyway.  
  
‘It was like this and not at the same time. I could never have predicted the last two years but this moment right now,’ Seunghyun says confidently, ‘I knew this was coming. Us being together in some way and still feeling this way? I expected it. I hoped, anyway’.  
  
Jiyong smiles and plays with Seunghyun’s fingers in their held hands.  
  
‘I like that,’ he answers. ‘Maybe I did too. I never seriously imagined what it would be like when we broke up,’ he says. ‘I guess I never really expected it to happen. When it did and we weren’t together any more, I felt like a different person. I was happy for a while but I wasn’t me’.  
  
‘And now?’ Seunghyun asks.  
  
‘I feel like myself again. Sad about a lot of stuff, but me’.  
  
‘So, you’re saying I complete you?’  
  
‘Don’t make fun’.  
  
‘Only a little,’ Seunghyun teases. ‘Besides, you know how I feel. I don’t want to use the word _soulmates_ ,’ he jests.  
  
Jiyong smirks.  
  
‘You think we’re soulmates?’  
  
Seunghyun’s face becomes suddenly sincere, smiling softly but in earnest.  
  
‘Maybe I do,’ he says. ‘I hate that word but---maybe’.  
  
Jiyong leans forward and kisses him.  
  
‘Me too’.  
  
   
  


  
*

  
  
  
For a while, they lay together in the dark listening to the party continuing around them, laughing as the commotion shifts for a time outside and people jump into the frigid water. Splashes followed by shrieks and yelps filter through the bedroom window.  
  
‘That’s _disgusting_ ’.  
  
‘You don’t want to swim in frigid, dirty lake water?’ Seunghyun asks with mock surprise.  
  
‘I don’t even want to think about it. So gross. We should go back out there and save them from themselves’.  
  
Reluctantly, they peel themselves away from each other and wade back into the party, sticking together for a while and then parting ways until the last visitor leaves just before dawn.  
  


 

* * *  


  
  
  
  
Their final day passes quickly, quietly. Not much happens because they are asleep for most of it. With eyes cracking open at 2pm, sweaty and tired, it takes a shared thirty-minute shower for them to feel human again, and even then. The day feels heavy and makes them lethargic.  
  
By some miracle, by the time they emerge from the bedroom, the rest of the house has almost been righted after the evening’s mess and commotion. His parents have done a world class job of cleaning up; or maybe there wasn’t as much mess as Jiyong expected. Maybe, because they were in his parent’s pension, there was an element of responsibility. Maybe people put their trash in actual bins instead of sitting empty bottles and glasses in pot plants and on expensive art. He doesn’t see any wet patches on the ground or on furniture, so he prays quietly that nobody had the audacity to vomit inside anywhere.  
  
Looking around now, it all seems like a dream. It seems impossible to have thrown a party so large in a single day. With all the evidence gone, it’s easy to think it was just a fantasy. The bags under Seunghyun’s eyes are the most tangible proof that anything happened, and they spend most of their final day on their own, laying together in various rooms, too tired to go anywhere or do anything productive.  
  
They watch a movie and nap, and talk quietly and nap some more. The reality that this is their last full day together for years doesn’t want to settle in. Jiyong does his best to push the truth away and maybe Seunghyun does the same because they don’t talk about it. The situation is hard to comprehend, simple in theory but in actuality? Being separated by Seunghyun’s exodus to Japan was one nightmare. This is another. It is hard to anticipate it. Knowing it’s coming doesn’t mean they can prepare, so they just--- _don’t._  
  
At dinner time, the family eat together and everything goes smoothly. It is so comfortable and easy, and maybe that’s a cruelty. Time passes so quickly, it’s like a dream. Jiyong feels the warmth of being surrounded by people he loves. Seunghyun slips into conversations easily and his father laughs and his mother does too. It all feels hopelessly normal and attainable. Then the dinner starts winding down, and the conversations and the pauses in between seem to grow and it’s in these little silences that the truth begins to soak into his bones. Seunghyun tells his parents about his gallery and his dreams for the future.  
  
One moment, Jiyong is smiling and watching him, in awe of Seunghyun and filled with love and then, he really comprehends what is about to happen. He _feels_ it, not as an abstract concept but something physical. This is the last night they will spend together for two years. The chances of them getting leave at the same time and being able to orchestrate their days of freedom to see each other are astronomically slim. They are going to lose each other again. Two years feels like a death sentence.   
  
He puts on a brave face for the rest of dinner because Seunghyun doesn’t seem affected. He is chatting amiably with his parents and talking about his grand plans and Jiyong doesn’t want to stop him. He wants every second of Seunghyun’s freedom to be enjoyable. He wants this week to be a happy memory for him. So, his efforts extend beyond dinner, for an hour or two into the night. They watch a film on the couch and Jiyong hides his inattention. He spends the whole time sinking into misery with his eyes glazed over, seeing nothing on the television screen but shapes and colours. He is lost in his head. When Seunghyun sporadically makes a comment on the film, Jiyong has the right answers. He fakes it.  
  
When the movie ends and Seunghyun suggests they head back to the bedroom, Jiyong’s calm deteriorates. On the walk back to the bedroom, he begins to crumble, because this is the last of their last moments. The bedroom signifies sleep and sleep will be the last robbery of their time together.  
  
The bedroom door closes behind them. Seunghyun locks it. There is a moment of silence in the dark, when any of one hundred things could happen next. Any of one hundred choices could send this night in different directions and Jiyong crumbles under the weight of them. He is incapable of making _any_ choice. He simply walks to the bed and lays down, curling up on his side. Even with the light off, he sees Seunghyun’s sympathetic face—but it’s not just sympathy, it’s pain. Like becoming upset about the inevitable will make it harder for Seunghyun too. Like being brave and cheerful is what Seunghyun needs. But he can’t be, and he doesn’t have the strength to fake it.  
  
Seunghyun follows him onto the bed, wordlessly.  
  
The light coming through the blinds from the moonlit night outside is enough for them to see each other by, and for thirty minutes they lie side by side, connected in the middle by their held hands. Jiyong doesn’t want to let go. In a childish way, if he never lets go, this moment can go on indefinitely. If he lets go, the sun will rise and Seunghyun will get out of bed. Jiyong will watch him dress and pack his bag and then he’ll be gone. They will see each other once more before he enlists but not like this. These are their last moments alone _._  
  
In the dark, he traces every line and shadow of Seunghyun’s face, trying to impart every inch of it to memory, though he knows that isn’t possible. Not really. When they are separated, they’ll forget the details of each other’s faces. The clarity will weaken. All he’ll have is the _feeling_.  
  
‘Don’t be sad,’ Seunghyun whispers.  
  
‘Aren’t _you?’_  
  
Seunghyun’s lip dips at the corner, a little quirk.  
  
‘Two years,’ he says.  
  
Maybe he means it to be consoling, _it’s only two years,_ but Jiyong feels the weight of those two years like needles in his back, each needle representing a day, all 700+ sliding into his flesh slowly and invisible.  
  
‘Two _years,_ ’ he whispers back.  
  
‘We’ll be okay’.  
  
_‘When?’_  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t answer. He offers a wan smile in return. Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe all this is one platitude after another. He doesn’t know when things will be okay. During enlistment? After? Maybe that’s when; In two years-time when the imminent future is the past and there are no more separations and interruptions keeping them apart.  
  
Two years.  
  
Jiyong’s throat dries up and his eyes water. He tries to blink it back and keep the tears in his throat where they belong, but one runs down his nose until he tastes salt on his lips. Seunghyun bridges the distance between them and kisses him gingerly, and they taste that tear together.  
  
When the kiss breaks, they don’t separate. Seunghyun keeps his head on the same pillow, their foreheads touching, eyes unfocussed on the other. It is hard to accommodate the cast between them but each time Seunghyun breathes, a little puff of warm air hits Jiyong’s cheek and there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to feel it against his skin forever.   
  
‘Tell me something nice,’ Jiyong whispers.  
  
‘Like what?’  
  
‘I don’t know. Something about us. About you. About me’.  
  
‘You want me to tell you something you’ve never heard before?’ Seunghyun clarifies.  
  
‘Yeah. Something _nice_ ’.  
  
‘How do I know what’s nice and what’s not?’  
  
‘Try me’.  
  
Seunghyun takes his time. He doesn’t say anything for a long while. He breaks eye contact and seems to pause on the edge of some precipice before finally speaking.  
  
‘I have a will,’ he says. ‘I had one drawn up a few weeks ago and you’re in it’.  
  
Jiyong’s head physically lifts from the pillow, he’s so surprised. He isn’t sure if he should sit up or stand up or do something, because what does that mean? When he said something nice, he didn’t mean this.  
  
‘You have a will? What for?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs.  
  
‘Emergencies? In case something happens to me. If I get struck by lightning or war breaks out or God knows. Things happen. I thought I should make one before I enlisted. I want to make sure everyone is taken care of’.  
  
Jiyong drops his head back onto the pillow. He’s startled. He feels a flood of _something_ in his gut. Sadness mixed with admiration maybe. Nobody should have to worry about their death at thirty, but maybe there’s something commendable about being prepared. He suddenly feels ashamed that he hasn’t got a will himself. If he died tomorrow, he’d want everything taken care of. He doesn’t want his family to go through unnecessary hardships. He can understand the desire, but---  
  
‘I’m in your will?’  
  
Seunghyun squeezes Jiyong’s fingers.  
  
‘My family get my money and most of my assets,’ he explains. ‘But there are things I want you to have. If something happens to me, I can’t trust my family to do the right thing. My mother wouldn’t let you take things and nobody else knows about us to allow it’.  
  
Jiyong frowns, thinking about Seunghyun’s sister and how _she_ knows, only Seunghyun doesn’t know that. Isn’t this the time to tell him? He should know before he enlists that someone in his family loves him no matter what. Before Jiyong can make a choice either way, Seunghyun continues, so he says nothing.  
  
‘Until we’re both out of the army and can find a place together, my villa goes to you if I die. We had some good memories there. I just thought maybe----‘ Seunghyun pauses and Jiyong smiles, pained. Maybe it _would_ break his heart if anything happened to Seunghyun and they sold his home, or maybe he’d be too upset to ever go there again. He can’t even guess.  
  
‘Anyway, you would get some of my art and other valuables too,’ Seunghyun continues. ‘I wrote down an entire page of small personal items that I wanted to you have. Things I needed to know were legally yours, if the worst happened. I guess that’s what matters. Little things that won’t matter to anyone else. Just to you and me’.  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t list anything or go into detail and Jiyong is profoundly grateful. How could he ever step foot in Seunghyun’s apartment again, knowing specific items were earmarked for him after his death?  
  
Seunghyun’s brow furrows, like he’s thinking how to say the next part. Jiyong’s stomach flips from anxiety. Can this get any more--- _big?_  
  
‘I don’t know how you’ll feel about this, but I put it on record that you should be involved in whatever happens after I die. I don’t want my family to cut you out or keep you out of the loop, or stop you from having a say or being there when they---‘  
  
Jiyong’s jaw clenches and his throat aches. Every word out of Seunghyun’s mouth becomes heavier and heavier until Jiyong is barely processing it. Only he hears _this_ part because what does he mean? When they _cremate_ him?  
  
‘I mean, in the end,’ Seunghyun says, pausing, ‘you could take half my ashes. I don’t know if you’d want them, and you wouldn’t have to take them, but if you _did_ want them, they’re yours, you know? That’s what I put in my will. I didn’t mention our relationship, I just put you in. I didn’t really plan it. I just went there for my family, you know? And it seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn’t want you to be left out if something happened to me. I was feeling sentimental that day, I guess’.  
  
He looks uncertain and Jiyong can feel a tremor in his fingers. He wants to answer right away, to brush off the look of sudden panic on Seunghyun’s face that he may have said too much, but he can’t string a sentence together. To say _what?_  
  
This is easily the most significant thing Seunghyun has _ever_ said to him; the most important gesture in their entire relationship, and their fifteen years of friendship. This isn’t two people in love sharing worldly possessions, this is more than that. Seunghyun doesn’t want him to have mementos, he wants to leave a piece of himself. His _physical_ _self_. He would knowingly divide what was left of him on this earth, just so Jiyong could hold onto some tangible trace of him when he’s gone.  
  
That isn’t just love, that’s something else. It hits Jiyong like a shockwave. He physically reels from the pressure and slips into a momentary panic of his own, some fight or flight response trying to force him into action. Isn’t this too much? Isn’t this _crazy?_ Isn’t it? A tear slips down his face and he lets it. He doesn’t wipe it away. He can’t. His cast is beneath him and his free hand is locked around Seunghyun’s, and he doesn’t want to let that go.  
  
‘You would do that for me?’  
  
Seunghyun’s eyes begin to shine in the dark. His voice, when he answers is unsteady.  
  
‘Of course’.  
  
_‘But why?’_  
  
Seunghyun smiles and it seems sad, too full of emotion to seem any other way.  
  
‘I don’t know,’ he answers honestly. ‘I wish I knew what it was about you that made those choices easy, but I don’t. I just know how I feel and that I would do anything for you. I would follow you into anything. I would give up everything I had,’ Seunghyun says, ‘and I think you feel that way too. _That_ makes it easy’.  
  
The flutter of panic in Jiyong fades.  
  
He doesn’t know what to say. How are you supposed to react when someone tells you they want to give a piece of themselves to you after they die? Do you say it back? Does he _want_ to? He’s never thought about what he wants to happen after he dies. He doesn’t want to think about it even now. It’s ghoulish. The mere thought of deciding whether to parcel up his remains sends a chill down his spine. He can’t say he would do the same, because he doesn’t know if he would.  
  
What he _does_ know, hearing Seunghyun say these things, and coming to grips with the sheer enormity of Seunghyun’s feelings, is that he feels them too. He can match the weight of Seunghyun’s love with his own, and maybe it will take different forms and manifest in different ways to Seunghyun’s, but he will never fall short. He doesn’t know how to say that to him. Instead, he crosses the few inches between them and presses his lips to Seunghyun’s.  
  
‘I don’t know how to answer you. I don’t know how to say the right thing. I’m sorry’.  
  
‘You don’t have to say anything’.  
  
‘I love you,’ Jiyong answers, pulling back a few inches so they can see each other. ‘You know that right? I mean I know you _know_ , but …’  
  
Seunghyun smiles warmly and nods against the pillow.  
  
‘I know’.  
  
Suddenly, Jiyong doesn’t feel broken-hearted that they are about to be separated, he feels grateful that, after all is said and done, they will be reunited and happy, because he _believes_ that. When all this shit is over, they will have better lives than the ones they’ve lived so far, and that’s a big call because they’ve lived _incredible_ lives. The rough patches don’t erase the incredible highs or the heights they’ve reached, and he feels like whatever comes next can top that. Simply being together and facing life together can be _better_.  
  
He slides a hand around Seunghyun’s lower back, slipping it a little way beneath his shirt to touch his warm bare skin.  
  
‘Just so you know, you’re not allowed to die. _Ever’._  
  
Seunghyun smiles into the small kiss that follows and answers much the same.  
  
‘You either’.  
  
It's sweet. Too sweet maybe to follow such a heavy confession, but at the same time--- that feels normal.  
  
Jiyong kisses him. He kisses him out of desperation, in lieu of words. He wants Seunghyun to know how meaningful it _is_ to be put in his will--- what that _means_ for them as a couple. There are things Jiyong can’t put into words yet because the information is too new, and it will take time they don’t have for him to fully understand it. He wants Seunghyun to know he loves him--- right now, in this moment, mere days after a mutual disaster, he needs Seunghyun to know that he loves him, and this time together has been hard won but worth _all_ of it; That this kiss _alone_ is worth months of hardship and pain; That to touch Seunghyun’s cheek and plant soft kisses at the side of his mouth and to smell him and feel the heat from his body, is worth their _months_ of battling each other.  
  
He kisses Seunghyun to prove that they’ll feel this way again. When they are both out of the army and they kiss for the first time--- that first moment together in private will make two years of separation seem worth it.  
  
And it _will_ be worth it, because this kiss is a precursor. It is slow and languid and they are perfectly in synch. They anticipate each other. There is symbiosis. Seunghyun huffs little warm breaths across Jiyong’s skin. Jiyong does the same. They take their time. Their hands roll over each other in soft touches. Jiyong, confined to his good hand, draws feather-light lines over Seunghyun’s arms and down his side, stopping eventually beneath his shirt.    
  
‘Careful’.  
  
Seunghyun breaks the kiss to say that, wanting intimacy but knowing it might be too soon. _Careful_ means--- _if we don’t stop, we may go too far._  
  
Admittedly, in the pool days earlier, Jiyong was reluctant. Some part of him felt ashamed for wanting to be touched. How many days has it been since Hyeong-bae did what he did? What happened that day doesn’t simply go away or move aside so he can fuck and feel nice for ten minutes--- and yet the magic of repression and forcing things away and turning off those switches in his head means Jiyong can override that stuff.   
  
Over the years, he has become too good at making his feelings go away. But this one last time, he is okay with that. Grateful for it. The walls of that prison in his head are beginning to crumble but they’ll last one more day. They can last long enough for he and Seunghyun to _be_ together, if he wants to. And--- he thinks he wants to. He knows he will regret it if they don’t.  
  
‘This is our last night together,’ Jiyong whispers. ‘I think it would be okay if we had sex’.  
  
Seunghyun pulls a face of such need, that Jiyong feels it in his own body. They aren’t immune to each other. They aren’t immune to what they’ve been doing or the way Jiyong’s knee slid between Seunghyun’s legs. They are both half hard.  
  
Regardless, Seunghyun seems to know these are murky waters. Is it _okay_ to fuck so soon after what happened? The last few days have passed peacefully, for the most part, but is this too much, too fast? Can this make things worse?  
  
Jiyong sees the different ways this night can go and he tries to see ahead. He feels regret trickle back from the future--- the sense that he missed out on saying goodbye in a meaningful way. That the last intimacy they shared will have been fucking in a parked car, and he doesn’t want that to be their last memory of each other’s bodies. So, he takes Seunghyun’s hand and, in the dark, they have a conversation without saying a word. Seunghyun seems to get the message. They both cross that invisible line of decision making and are on the same page.  
  
It’s okay.  
  
Once that line is crossed, there’s no undoing it or going back. Maybe it’s the clock ticking down, or the pent-up stress that can’t be exorcised or the latent heartbreak about their impending loss--- but they lose themselves. It is like flicking a switch. Jiyong needs to feel Seunghyun’s skin, to feel his warmth. He needs to touch him and make him smile and gasp and close his eyes. He wants to hear that _sound_ he makes--- he wants to leave traces on Seunghyun’s body. He wants to touch every _inch_ of it so he can remember him when he’s gone.  
  
He wants Seunghyun’s memories of him to come back to this night. When Seunghyun dreams about him, Jiyong wants Seunghyun to feel the same feeling as when he _cums_. That’s what they are to each other. When they are really together, there is support and unconditional love but there is also fire, and a force that draws them together. It is in the moments when they physically connect that they fit together best. It is when they most look after one another. When they most know each other. Even when they were fighting months ago, through all that bitterness and pain, in those moments when they slept together, they were tender and careful and still in love. They were honest. Honest in a way they couldn’t be the rest of the time.  
  
Seunghyun pulls himself away to turn the bedroom light on and Jiyong blinks in surprise.  
  
‘If this is our last night and we’re doing this, let’s do it right,’ Seunghyun says.  
  
He lifts his shirt over his head and pulls it off, throwing it in the corner. Jiyong watches him in surprise. He expected something else maybe, some fumbling over the clothes and then under the clothes and _then_ getting naked. Getting naked from the start? That’s new. Seunghyun slides his trousers down and manages to look sexy and cool when he kicks them off. He leaves his briefs on initially instead of taking them down at the same time.  
  
‘Are you putting on a show?’ Jiyong asks.  
  
‘Just a small one,’ Seunghyun jests, flexing. He poses, looking back over his shoulder with smouldering eyes. Jiyong rolls onto his stomach to get a better view and Seunghyun makes sure to take his briefs off slowly, stepping out of them with an impressive amount of dignity until he’s standing there, completely naked and half-hard. Jiyong’s dick responds. It’s sexy, this brashness. The unashamed nudity.  
  
They are comfortable naked with each other. They have been for a long time. They’re usually having sex though or walking from the bedroom to the shower and vice versa. In motion. They don’t usually stop and look at each other naked, but that’s what Seunghyun wants them to do. So, Jiyong plays along. The directions are unspoken but he knows what Seunghyun wants from him.  
  
He rolls off the bed and pulls his own shirt and sweater off. Naked from the waist up except for his plaster cast. For a moment, he feels ashamed of that fucking cast. He feels embarrassed by it. It’s a humiliating reminder and it makes him feel childish. When he spares a glance at Seunghyun though, there is none of that reflected on his face. Just appraisal. _Interest_.  
  
Bolstered, Jiyong steps out of his pants the way Seunghyun did his. Wordless and slow until he is left in his briefs. Now, Seunghyun’s interest is undeniable. It is written across his face and in his body language, but it’s not just arousal, it’s appreciation. Jiyong smiles, removing his briefs so they are both standing in front of each other completely naked, and they _look_. They look at each other’s bodies in a way they haven’t done before. Without touching. Without distractions.  
  
Jiyong makes the most of it. His eyes follow the shadows around Seunghyun’s body. He follows one that begins in the dip of his collarbone, down his arm and around his pecs, past the line of his stomach, all the way to his inner thigh. The shadows pool in the cuts of Seunghyun’s muscles. They highlight how much he has changed physically. How strong he is now. How comfortable in his own skin.  
  
Jiyong looks down at his own body and the difference is stark. He is thin. Thinner than normal, thin from prolonged stress. He hasn’t had a chance to put weight back on. He isn’t ashamed though, like he has been in the past. This stuff doesn’t matter.  
  
Seunghyun takes a step closer but doesn’t reach out.  
  
‘I love your body,’ he says.  
  
Jiyong smiles.  
  
He bridges the distance between them but he doesn’t touch either. Not quite. He reaches out but stops short. He lets his fingers hover a centimetre above Seunghyun’s skin and he traces that shadow again. He starts at Seunghyun’s chest, sweeping his fingers over his pecs and down his tight stomach and below. He avoids his dick on purpose. He lets his fingers ghost over Seunghyun’s thigh. He stays there for a while, moving his fingers across invisible piano keys and Seunghyun’s cock twitches without being touched.  
  
‘I like your body too,’ Jiyong whispers.  
  
They make eye contact and there’s a moment of uncertainty before they meet in the middle. They kiss and it’s beautiful. It’s desperate and needy and totally raw. This is different from a clothed kiss on a bed. Not better or worse, just _new_.  
  
Before they go too far, Seunghyun pulls back. He manoeuvres so he is flush against Jiyong’s back, wrapping his arms around him from behind. It is startling. Seunghyun kisses the crook between Jiyong’s shoulder and neck and it feels _so nice_. Jiyong closes his eyes and his head drops back. Seunghyun lays a trail of kisses up and down his nape, following the line of his tattoo and Jiyong feels like a swaddled baby, but in a sexy way and the dichotomy is bizarre but nice. He feels comforted. Safe. Special. There is an element of worship in it, and it’s reciprocal. That’s why Jiyong doesn’t let it go on too long. He wants everything they do tonight to be a shared experience.  
  
Back on the bed where he drags Seunghyun down after him, they lay flush against each other. Jiyong enjoys the weight of Seunghyun’s body on top of him, the heat and the feel of his skin. It’s nice. For a while they touch innocently, stroking innocuous places—simply taking the chance to touch each other--- but it inevitably devolves until they’re rutting against each other and then jerking each other off, swallowing each other’s laboured breaths. It’s intoxicating. It’s like a drug.  
  
It feels incredible to be literally _together_ ; their sweat-soaked skin sticking to each other, sweat present in every desperate slide of their bodies. It takes so much to pull away, to take five seconds apart for Seunghyun to say, _‘Do you have a condom?’_ \--- and even longer for Jiyong to get his thoughts together to really think about whether he does or not, because when they were packing, despite his best intentions for making this a pleasant vacation from reality, he wasn’t thinking about sex. He didn’t bring any.  
  
‘Shit. No’.  
  
‘Me either,’ Seunghyun answers, similarly out of breath and dazed, trying to focus his mind. He plants a kiss on Jiyong’s collarbone and shrugs. ‘This is enough’.  
  
Jiyong cranes his head back into the pillow, lifting his chin into the air. He tries to come up with some kind of solution to this problem because they’ve come too far now and he _needs_ this. They need this memory. This night is important. This desperate rutting feels incredible and it’s beautiful to have this intimacy without actually fucking but it’s not enough.   
  
‘We don’t need a condom. Let’s go without’.  
  
Seunghyun draws himself up on all fours until Jiyong feels more naked somehow. Losing the warmth of Seunghyun’s skin makes him feel cold and exposed.  
  
‘We’ve never done that before,’ Seunghyun says. ‘We’ve never talked about it’.  
  
Jiyong shrugs, feeling suddenly shy. It’s okay, isn’t it? He knows they’re both clean. They’ve already had that conversation. They had it weeks ago, when Jiyong decided to be celibate, that being with Seunghyun wasn’t cheating if he wasn’t having sex with anyone.  
  
Seunghyun looks a bit frazzled, like he’s genuinely never considered fucking without a condom before, and maybe that’s naïve in a way. They’ve been together for so long. They can put stipulations in wills for each other but have never had unprotected sex? Condoms were never an issue. They never begrudged them so they didn’t think about it. Why fix what wasn’t broken?  
  
‘So let’s talk about it,’ Jiyong offers. ‘Let’s do it. We should have done it a long time ago. You don’t want to?’  
  
Seunghyun laughs quickly and ducks his head down to kiss him.  
  
‘No. I want to. I really want to’.  
  
Jiyong slides a sly hand around Seunghyun’s dick, whose elbows almost buckle in surprise.  
  
‘So, let’s do it,’ he whispers.  
  
Things happen pretty quickly after that. Seunghyun finds lube in the bathroom and puts on some music at Jiyong’s behest. His parents are on the opposite end of the pension, but he couldn’t bear it if one of them went for a walk in the middle of the night and overheard something. So, Seunghyun, sweating and flushed and achingly hard, flips through his phone connected to a little speaker on the desk, and chooses some suitable tunes.  
  
‘No sex music!’ Jiyong warns him.  
  
Seunghyun smirks and Jiyong expects to hear The Weeknd filter through his speaker any second, singing about taking dick in a beautiful sing-song voice but instead, there is a moment of anticipation. Seunghyun puts his phone down and looks incredibly proud of himself.  
  
‘What are you putting on?’  
  
Seunghyun shushes him and raises a finger in anticipation. Moments later the opening bars of a kids show jingle fill the room and Jiyong throws his head back, immediately lost in his own laughter. Seunghyun joins him and it takes almost a full minute, wiping the tears from his eyes, for Jiyong to breathlessly admonish him.  
  
_‘Why?’_  
  
‘It’s a playlist,’ Seunghyun answers, still faintly laughing. ‘The song will change. We can work with it’.  
  
‘You think so?’  
  
Seunghyun sinks back onto the bed and grips both of Jiyong’s knees, pulling his legs wide open. There’s a sudden flash of cold and shock and the laughter dies in Jiyong’s throat to make room for something else. In this vulnerable position, Seunghyun _looks_ at him. His fingers knead the soft skin behind his knees, easing out small tensions.  
  
‘I do think so’.  
  
And he’s right, really. The music plays in the background but Jiyong’s world shrinks until there is only himself and Seunghyun, and the sound of his own heart pounding in anticipation when Seunghyun flips the cap open on the lube. Jiyong tenses in anticipation to feel the coldness of it but Seunghyun rolls it between his fingers first to warm it. When the first warm finger touches him, Jiyong wishes they were already past this, he wants to feel Seunghyun inside him so badly.  
  
Instead, he is tortured.  
  
Seunghyun is gentle but sure of himself when the first finger slides in. There’s little resistance, they are so well attuned to each other. Instead of getting the job done as quickly as possible, Seunghyun draws it out. He makes it foreplay in of itself. Jiyong involuntarily squirms when a finger crooks inside him. He feels it. He feels Seunghyun drag against him from the inside. It sends little spikes of pleasure running through him on a loop until his lower back lifts off the mattress. When Seunghyun adds a second finger, Jiyong’s hips twist.  
  
It feels so nice that Jiyong doesn’t really spare a thought for what comes next--- that they’re about to do something they’ve never done before. It seems crazy that they’ve never had sex without a condom before but maybe this is the right time. Maybe it would have been better to go home tonight, so they could be alone together, instead of 100 feet from his parent’s bed--- but he can’t fix that now. Shucking aside the minor embarrassment of it, it has been nice to stay quiet. Maybe they wouldn’t have done things this way if they weren’t able to make noise. Maybe being here has allowed them to talk quietly in the dark and to _see_ each other.  
  
Soon enough, pleasure builds in Jiyong to an uncomfortable degree and Seunghyun has to stop before it’s too late. They take their time. Seunghyun preps himself and they kiss for a while, then it all comes together. Jiyong shoves a pillow beneath his hips and holds his legs back. Seunghyun spares a moment to kiss each knee in turn before getting comfortable between his legs.  
  
When was the last time they did this? The last time, period? Maybe it was that incredible morning before Seunghyun’s mother appeared and ruined everything. That was the best sex he’d had in years. The night beforehand, he and Seunghyun were on the verge of parting ways forever. The next morning was blissfully different. Maybe that was the morning they truly got back together. Maybe that was the last time someone fucked him too.  
  
Seunghyun lines himself up and Jiyong feels the sudden tension as Seunghyun pushes forward and bows into him. He flexes his hips and Jiyong is caught in that momentary flash of _pressure,_ in that stretch of muscle, in the heat and the brief flicker of pain while Seunghyun eases into him. He taps Seunghyun’s arm for a moment--- just a _moment_ \--- he needs a second to breathe and relax, then taps his arm again to continue. Seunghyun resumes the slow push until he’s fully seated and Jiyong feels him, and it’s _new_.  
  
He doesn’t understand where that feeling is coming from until Seunghyun slowly rolls his hips and Jiyong feels him again. He feels that slide into him and he gets it. He can feel him. _Feel_ feel. Without the condom, there is no subtlety or barrier between them. Jiyong feels every inch of him and not just that but the _heat_. The unobstructed heat of Seunghyun’s body inside him. It’s different without a condom. Seunghyun fucks him slowly to ease him into it, but as quickly as Jiyong feels the tension and drag, it’s gone. With a condom, it takes longer. It’s harder initially. This is easy. A mere flash of pressure and then---  
  
_‘Fuck,’_ Jiyong whispers.  
  
Seunghyun hangs his head with a pained expression.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘It feels good,’ Jiyong answers, almost laughing. ‘Oh my God, you feel _so good’_.  
  
Seunghyun smiles and lifts his head again, unburdened almost. Like not saying so himself was eating him up inside. Jiyong feels a pang of regret that he’s never fucked Seunghyun without a condom, that they are both experiencing this for the first time and can’t know what the other is feeling. It seems unfair for Seunghyun not to know how this _feels_ first hand--- to have someone inside you, unobstructed. He doesn’t seem to mind though, he’s dealing with his own surprises.  
  
‘This is already killing me,’ Seunghyun whispers. ‘This feels insane. I just want to _fuck_ you’.  
  
Jiyong laughs quietly, moving his broken hand to rest above his head on the pillow. He folds his legs around Seunghyun’s waist, as much as their positions allow.  
  
‘Give me another twenty seconds like this, and then we’re good,’ Jiyong says. ‘It already feels nice. I’m okay. I just need a few more seconds---‘  
  
So Seunghyun does his best. He patiently waits out the longest twenty seconds of their _lives_ and then Jiyong squeezes his forearm and all bets are off. Seunghyun fucks him the way he wants to and it’s hard and fast and needy. Quiet obscenities slip past his lips.  
  
Jiyong’s hair drags against the mattress with each thrust and he keeps his good hand on Seunghyun’s forearm for stability. It feels nice, the way Seunghyun fills him up. It always feels nice. He could fuck a thousand different men and it would never feel like this. It would never feel so natural and _right_. The way Seunghyun fits inside him begs for gratitude.  
  
It is easy, the way their bodies rock together, the way they find synchronicity. Seunghyun drops down so they are flush against one another, which hampers their movements a little, but is worth it to be _closer_ —to feel each other more, and to reach each other’s lips. Jiyong swallows Seunghyun’s breaths and makes quiet sounds of his own. With each thrust, pleasure blooms in his gut and each rock forward creates friction between them, creations friction against his dick which twitches on its own and _aches_.  
  
‘Tell me how it feels,’ Jiyong whispers into Seunghyun’s neck.  
  
It takes time for Seunghyun to answer, he is so lost in the feeling, but he drops his head and plants kisses on the side of Jiyong’s neck and down his collarbone. He kisses his shoulder.  
  
‘Amazing,’ Seunghyun whispers. ‘Smooth,’ he smiles, planting kisses between each few words. ‘Warm. It’s different without a condom. No friction. I feel you. It’s nice. I’m going to miss you,’ he says. ‘I’m going to miss your body’.  
  
Jiyong turns his face in Seunghyun’s neck and tries to beat back the swell in his heart. They will miss each other because this is it. This is their last hurrah for two years. It’s hard to comprehend that amount of time. He frowns involuntarily. He holds the back of Seunghyun’s neck and presses his face against his jaw to hide his tears.   
  
_I’m going to miss you._  
  
He needn’t have hid them. It takes about twenty seconds for Seunghyun to sniff and Jiyong to realise they are on the same page. When Jiyong drops his head back onto the mattress and they look in each other’s faces, a tear drops from Seunghyun’s cheek onto Jiyong’s chest.  
  
‘Fuck, sorry’.  
  
Jiyong laughs sadly, sniffing back his own tears. In a cruel twist of fate, one song ends and another begins and this one is _sad._ This one is slow and melancholic. It tugs at him.  
  
‘What kind of sex playlist _is_ this?’  
  
‘Honestly, I just put it on shuffle’.  
  
There’s something about the way Seunghyun says that, that makes Jiyong laugh, genuinely. He wipes the budding tears from his eyes and rolls his hips to readjust his position on the pillow beneath him. Even sad, Seunghyun lets slip a moan and Jiyong does it again.   
  
He tops from the bottom. He controls their movements and lets Seunghyun take a break--- only he doesn’t rest, he simply reprioritises. Seunghyun takes the chance to grab Jiyong’s dick instead, jerking him off, gauging his reactions. The combination of Seunghyun inside him and his hand _on_ him, weaken Jiyong at his core. He can’t catch a breath. He feels incredible. He’s so close. His thighs begin to tighten.  
  
‘I’m close,’ he warns.  
  
‘Me too’.  
  
Jiyong wipes a bead of sweat from Seunghyun’s brow. He watches Seunghyun’s face and the way his brows knit when he groans as he clenches around him. They are both close. They’re not going to last.  
  
Jiyong wonders if this shouldn’t have unfolded differently, if their last night together shouldn’t have been spent another way, with two hours of foreplay and multiple orgasms and roses on the bed, or special dimmed lights and a scented candle. Something to reflect how important tonight will be in their memories, but Seunghyun drives into him again. He hits that sweet spot and Jiyong almost sobs for how good it feels and Seunghyun makes a similar sound in tandem, and Jiyong thinks it probably doesn’t matter. Tonight is good enough. It will _always_ be good enough. All that matters is they’re together and can make each other feel nice and that’s what this is. It’s _nice_.  
  
Jiyong feels the first sign of his orgasm approaching and pulls Seunghyun close. He doesn’t need Seunghyun to touch his dick anymore--- he can cum from the friction alone of their bodies rubbing together, so he drags Seunghyun down until they are flush against one another, so their sweat slicked bodies can slide together and it feels amazing and intimate.  
  
Seunghyun tenses unexpectedly. His orgasm takes him by surprise.  
  
‘Fuck, I’m going to---‘  
  
He tries to pull out but Jiyong holds him there. He locks his thighs around him and breathes into his cheek.  
  
‘It’s okay. You can cum---‘  
  
Part of him is disgusted by the thought, but tonight is a night of firsts and he wants them to be close, and he wants Seunghyun to _feel_ good. He wants Seunghyun to cum inside him and enjoy it. When it happens, he doesn’t feel anything like he expects to. Seunghyun’s thrusts become messy and disjointed and desperate, then he moans quietly in relief and tenses, and all Jiyong feels is that tension and a pulse. He doesn’t really feel it physically--- but the way Seunghyun’s face twists and then loosens in _bliss_ is all worth it. The way his barely restrained moan is _pulled_ from his throat in a broken stutter--- it’s beautiful.  
  
Jiyong kisses him greedily. He steals his hard-won breaths and runs a hand up Seunghyun’s shaking forearm.  
  
‘I love you’.  
  
Seunghyun kisses him in answer and does his best to get Jiyong off before he gets soft and he doesn’t have to try very hard. It doesn’t take long--- even with his energy petering out, Seunghyun knows all the tricks. They know each other’s bodies too well. It takes maybe a minute before Jiyong is clenching all over, his muscles tightening in anticipation--- his dick caught between them—feeling that warm slide with each thrust.  
  
He remembers Seunghyun saying how much he likes the sound he makes when he cums--- a little gasp in his ear that Jiyong never realised he made until Seunghyun brought it up. So, when he feels himself on the edge, he makes sure to pull Seunghyun’s head down by the neck so he can kiss the shell of his ear.  
  
When his orgasm hits and his thighs tighten at Seunghyun’s side—Jiyong gives that inevitable gasp and follows it with an even more involuntary moan as he rides it out. Like Seunghyun, a primal stifled sound is _pulled_ from him unexpectedly. Seunghyun kisses him before he’s quite done and swallows the last of the sound.  
  
As Jiyong’s body unfurls and relaxes, Seunghyun slips out of him and rolls onto his back. Jiyong feels the sudden loss, now more than ever. Now that he has really _felt_ him. Now that he will go without.  
  
‘I’m going to miss you,’ he whispers, mirroring Seunghyun’s earlier statement. And that’s all they can say to one another.  
  
They lay together for a while in silence, staring at the ceiling, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Jiyong thinks about the seven hundred and something days until they can touch each other again and the dark cloud descends. They were able to stave off reality for an hour but now they are back in the real world, and they are one step closer, one hour closer to separation. They will shower and get back into bed and go to sleep and that will be that. Maybe tonight was wasted. Maybe, six months from now, when Jiyong thinks about this night, he won’t remember the intimacy, but this moment right now instead, staring at the ceiling, wishing everything was different.  
  


  
*  


  
  
When they are both showered and back in bed, they mirror their positions from earlier. They lay on their sides, facing one another, with their hands intertwined on the mattress between them. Jiyong tries to conjure ways of slowing down time but tiredness creeps up on him. He yawns and Seunghyun does too.  
  
The last thing Jiyong says before his eyes close is, _‘don’t let me fall asleep’._  


 

  
  
* * *

 

 

 

When he wakes the next day, he feels hot and sticky. He opens his eyes to the sun blaring through his open window. He can tell in an instant that it’s late. He jolts upright in bed as Seunghyun walks out of the ensuite fully dressed and wide-awake with a shirt in his hand.  
  
‘You didn’t wake me. What _time_ is it?’  
  
Seunghyun looks apologetic. He avoids eye contact.  
  
’Ten. My sister will be here in half an hour’.  
  
Jiyong lists forward, almost in physical pain. Half an hour. _Thirty minutes._ Seunghyun only left him with thirty minutes--- each time he breathes, blinks, has a thought--- those are vital seconds he doesn’t have to lose.  
  
‘When did you get up?’  
  
‘A few hours ago,’ Seunghyun confesses.  
  
Jiyong is ready to hurl something at him because that isn’t _fair,_ but he sees Seunghyun’s lip tremble. Seunghyun’s face contorts and he drops the folded shirt in his hands into the overnight bag on the ground. He speaks and his voice breaks.  
  
‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t _do_ this for hours,’ Seunghyun says, tapping his chest. ‘I can’t handle you being upset because when you’re upset, _I’m_ upset and I need to pretend I’m okay with this. I need to pretend that this doesn’t hurt me. I need to pretend for one day at least, that I’m strong and I’m going to be okay without you’.  
  
Jiyong swallows down his hurt and panic. If their situations were reversed, he would feel the same. He would let Seunghyun sleep because it’s easier. Because it’s better than watching the clock tick down, swapping tears on a loop.  
  
‘You _are_ strong,’ Jiyong says instead, drawing his knees up to his chest. ‘And you _will_ be okay’.  
  
‘Says who?’  
  
‘Me,’ Jiyong answers, confidently. ‘Who knows you better than I do? You’ll have to trust me’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles but it’s sad and Jiyong doesn’t know what to say or do. His heartache takes a backseat to try and ease Seunghyun’s anxiety. How much worse is this for him? Tomorrow, he will disappear behind a giant fence that will lock itself behind him. Tonight, he will do his familial duty and spend the evening with his sister and her family. He will play with Yeon-Jun and put on a brave face, and maybe that’s necessary too. Maybe he needs this night of practise to tamp down his emotions. It isn’t right or fair, but what is? This is how he will survive. Jiyong drags himself out of bed and pulls his own overnight bag from the wardrobe.  
  
‘Sit down,’ he says, instructing Seunghyun towards the bed. He rifles through dirty clothes and loose items from his toiletries bag that spilled out when he couldn’t be bothered zipping it up. His fingers eventually close around the crinkled envelope he was looking for, and he moves to sit beside Seunghyun on the bed.  
  
‘I want to give you something,’ he says. ‘I meant to do it before now, but it never felt like a good time, and now there’s no time left’.  
  
He sighs, anxious about Seunghyun’s response. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, but he is taking that risk. He passes the envelope to Seunghyun and Jiyong sees the exact moment he recognises the scrawl on the front as his own.  
  
‘This is my suicide note,’ he says bleakly. He turns it over and his fingernail scrapes over the seal. ‘You never opened it?’  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
‘I couldn’t,’ he answers.  
  
Seunghyun looks disheartened. Conflicted maybe.  
  
‘There are things in here I wanted you to know,’ he says.  
  
Jiyong stares at Seunghyun’s knee for a moment. Maybe this was a bad idea. What would have happened months ago if he _had_ opened it? Would reading Seunghyun’s final words have changed him, or their relationship or altered all the memories that came before it? Jiyong couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t strong enough. It almost killed him to hear what Seunghyun had done to himself. To read a thick padded letter saying goodbye forever? It was too much to ask of him.  
  
‘If there are things you want to tell me,’ Jiyong says carefully, ‘if there are things you want me to know, I’m right here’.  
  
Seunghyun flinches but says nothing. He lets the opportunity pass him by. He just turns the envelope over and over in his hands, like it’s a puzzle that has to be solved or a grenade with the pin loose.  
  
‘I think,’ Jiyong begins carefully, ‘if you can’t say those things to me now, I’m not supposed to hear them. I want to give this letter back to you'.  
  
Seunghyun looks up from the envelope and seems hurt almost, but mostly conflicted. He seems deeply confused to come face to face with this relic from his past. But that’s the point. It is anachronistic. What place does this letter have in their lives now?  
  
‘I don’t think you’re this person any more,’ Jiyong says. ‘The Seunghyun who wrote this? I don’t think you’d recognise him. _I_ wouldn’t recognise him. I need you to think about whether you want that person to speak for you’.  
  
Seunghyun’s brow knits and he looks again at the envelope in his hands.  
  
‘If you still want me to read this letter, I will,’ Jiyong continues. ‘But I don’t think I should, and I don’t think you want me to. I think you’re ready to say goodbye to this part of your life’.  
  
He touches Seunghyun’s hand, and by proxy, the envelope.  
  
Seunghyun shrugs in answer. He seems lost.  
  
‘You’re right,’ he answers calmly. ‘I don’t want you to read this anymore. I’m glad you never opened it’.  
  
He sighs and keeps turning it over in his hands.  
  
‘But what should I do with it? Throw it away?’  
  
‘You can do whatever you like with it,’ Jiyong answers.  
  
Seunghyun flinches, like the thought of throwing it away or destroying it is painful somehow. Like, in a way, this letter is meaningful to him beyond what it says. That it’s symbolic of something he isn’t sure he’s ready to let go of. He says as much.  
  
‘I’m not the person I was when I wrote this,’ he says. ‘But throwing it away or destroying it feels wrong. Like I’m shutting the door on something that used to be a comfort to me’.  
  
Jiyong asks what he means and Seunghyun answers, flinchingly.  
  
‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ he says, ‘but all that time I was on the brink, suicide was a comforting back-up plan. Even when I didn’t want to die anymore, I still felt comfortable keeping suicide on the shelf. Like _I’ll do my best to be happy and get better, but if it doesn’t work out, that’s okay--- I can still kill myself_ , you know? That kind of thing. Getting rid of this letter feels like taking the safety net off the shelf’.  
  
Jiyong frowns and squeezes Seunghyun’s thigh, not sure what to say in answer to that. Not sure how Seunghyun’s words even make him feel. He hasn’t come up with a satisfactory answer when Seunghyun continues.  
  
‘Jesus,' he says, shaking his head. It's like he's coming out of a daze. 'Thinking about it now, that's unbelievable. How did I survive, thinking that way? I'm sorry I ever gave you this letter too,' Seunghyun says. 'I don't know what I expected you to do or say. This wasn't fair of me. I wasn't thinking straight'.  
  
Seeing this letter again is confronting for him. It's a reminder of the worst time of his life, and Jiyong didn’t bring it out to steep him in past miseries but to remind him of how much he has changed, of all the nightmares he has overcome. To remind him of his _strength._ That him being here today and fairly happy, is all the proof necessary that he can survive his enlistment and come out the other side, stronger and happier for having done it. There isn't anything he can't do.  
  
‘Look at everything you’ve done for yourself,’ Jiyong says. ‘This is the strongest you have ever been. You are so different to the way you used to be, I barely recognise you. All that stuff you said to me the other day? I'm saying it right back. Who you are today is the best possible version of you. You're fucking amazing. I think you know that too. What’s going to happen tomorrow _sucks_ and it’s scary and you are _definitely_ going to cry, and so will I--- but you’ll be okay,' Jiyong urges. 'You are indestructible. I believe that. You’ll get through this and so will I, and when this is all over, we are going to have the best fucking life together, I promise you. _So_ ,’ Jiyong says, sniffing back errant emotions. He pats the envelope in Seunghyun's hand. ‘Let’s burn this fucking letter or something, pack your bags, and get through this. We’ll be okay’.  
  
  


  
*  


  
  
  
Seunghyun’s sister shows up ten minutes late and Jiyong is grateful for the extra time. They don’t use it in any special way. They choose to sit by the door together with their hands held between them. They pull away at the last possible second, when Hyeyoon’s car comes into view on the gravel drive.  
  
Her approach to the door seems to happen in slow motion; the way she readjusts the strap of her handbag and tucks her sunglasses into her hair. She has a smile on her face and waves with such genuine happiness and good will that Jiyong can’t even begrudge her for taking Seunghyun away from him; for monopolising his last night. Worst of all, Jiyong simply likes her. He is grateful to her. He wants Seunghyun to spend one night with a family that _loves_ him. He will sacrifice one night for Seunghyun to have that.  
  
When Hyeyoon reaches them, she pulls Seunghyun into a bear-hug and Jiyong smiles unconsciously. It strikes him, the way they hold each other. Seunghyun is more affectionate than usual, and it doesn't seem like the mere fact that his time is running out either. He just seems desperate for connection. Desperate maybe, for the affection he can't get from his parents, now, when he needs them most. Hyeyoon is his surrogate. Jiyong notices too that Hyeyoon’s hug is visibly maternal. Like she desperately wants her hug to be enough for three _._ Enough to cover her absent parents. She wants Seunghyun to feel loved. They are speaking the same language. Two sides of the same coin.  
  
Hyeyoon hugs Jiyong too and she is sincere in her warmth. Her hug is firm and kind of comforting to him. It’s only when all the hugs are done with, and they step inside to collect Seunghyun’s bags, that she notices something is amiss.  
  
‘What happened to you both?’  
  
Jiyong follows her gaze down to his plaster cast and then watches her scrutinize their appearance, looking for traces of disorder. She seems to find them effortlessly, despite the marks being faded almost to nothing. She sees the bruises in his hairline and the slight discoloration on Seunghyun’s face.  
  
‘A car accident,’ Seunghyun answers quickly. ‘A small one’.  
  
‘Some accident,’ she says disbelieving, ‘and you were together?’  
  
Her tone means something to Jiyong, but not to Seunghyun. She knows what Seunghyun has been doing here all week. The reason he is _here_ and not at home. Maybe she is glad that Seunghyun has spent his final days loved and taken care of. Maybe she doesn’t begrudge him for monopolising Seunghyun’s time. Seunghyun, oblivious, compounds the lie unnecessarily.  
  
‘We hadn’t seen each other for a while,' he says. 'We were catching up while we had the chance’.  
  
Hyeyoon frowns, and Jiyong knows exactly what that means. He sees the emotion plainly on her face but Seunghyun seems oblivious. She knows it wasn’t a car accident because if it had been, Seunghyun would have told her when it happened. They have had their trials over the past few months, but since the incident with Seunghyun’s mother, they have been closer. It isn’t realistic for Seunghyun to be involved in an accident and not tell her.  
  
Something about this whole thing strikes Jiyong as supremely unfair. The way Seunghyun lies and the way his lies act like little barbs for Hyeyoon, who recoils imperceptibly at each one. They love and _need_ each other but there is an obstacle between them. This secret between them that continues even now, on the verge of separation. Honesty would be kinder on them both.  
  
Jiyong understands the reasons for the secrets that exist between them. He understands Seunghyun keeping his sexuality to himself, who can blame him. He understands Hyeyoon keeping her knowledge of it from him, too. It was nice of her to respect Seunghyun’s wishes, to wait for him to come out on his own, but in _this moment_ , Jiyong watches them talk around each other, both wanting to say things that matter, but neither capable of doing it. They can’t have any meaningful connection here, when it most matters, because of this secret. It doesn’t seem right. He made promises to them both and he wants to keep them, but he feels his loyalty slipping. Maybe Seunghyun was right when he said it was sometimes necessary for others to intervene.  
  
He makes a judgement call. He feels an ache in his chest of anticipation and urgency. When Seunghyun picks up his bags and carries them to the car, Jiyong grabs Hyeyoon’s wrist and speaks as quickly as he can in Seunghyun's absence.  
  
‘Tell Seunghyun that you _know_ about him. That you know he’s gay. Tonight. He needs to know before he goes in tomorrow’.  
  
She seems flustered, and spins around to see where Seunghyun is, to make sure he’s out of earshot. She lowers her voice to match. She speaks quietly.  
  
‘What if he gets mad at me? What if he doesn’t want me to know? I want tonight to go peacefully. I want to enjoy my time with him’.  
  
Jiyong implores her. He begs.  
  
‘I _know_ him. He needs to know that he has family who loves him for who he _is._ He’s putting on a stoic face but this stuff with his mother is killing him. He needs you. I know he does. He needs his sister to say, _‘You’re gay! So what! I still love you! Everything’s going to be okay!_ ’  
  
It sounds childish coming out of his mouth but he has so little time to speak. He can’t explain to her the look Seunghyun gets when he brings up his mother. The way his eyes glaze over when he thinks about his parents and a future that simply doesn’t have them in it. Jiyong doesn’t have time to describe the way Seunghyun’s voice changes when he lies and says _‘it’s okay’_ —or the fact that that tone of voice doesn’t exist for him at any other time; that losing his parents, losing his mother, has been so traumatic for Seunghyun that he has invented whole new behaviours to cope with it.  
  
‘I’m begging you,’ he whispers emotionally. ‘Please _tell_ him. I don’t have time to tell you everything I could to make you believe me, but please trust me. He _needs_ this. He needs this to happen before he goes in. He needs this to help him _cope_. Maybe you do too’.  
  
Seunghyun’s footfalls in the gravel become louder, as he heads back in their direction and Jiyong lets go of her arm. She sighs and gives a curt nod. A moment before Seunghyun reaches them she mouths her consent.  
  
_Okay_.  
  
And then everything seems to happen like an avalanche, with each second speeding up until they form a destructive force that shatters everything in its path. It feels like only a handful of seconds between Seunghyun returning from the car and their very platonic ‘just friends’ hug in the doorway; with Jiyong’s mother and father wishing Seunghyun well. His father furiously shaking his hand, his mother teary-eyed and maternal.  
  
Jiyong seems to sleep through it. He stands still while everything flashes around him. While everyone moves quickly away from him, he can’t take note of them. Seunghyun makes a joke about looking after his car but Jiyong doesn’t respond. He barely hears him. He only comes to his senses when the car door slams and Seunghyun is already inside. Out of sight.    
  
It doesn’t matter that he’ll see him in the morning, that he will be there to wave him off and wish him well, because this was the last of their time _alone_. From this point forward, they are Kwon Jiyong and Choi Seunghyun. Friends. In a sense, the Seunghyun he loves is already gone.  
  
His father returns inside before the car has even left the drive but his mother remains behind. She waves animatedly after the car as it pulls away. It’s like she’s trying to send Seunghyun off with enough loving goodbyes to sustain him for the whole two years.  
  
And then the car is gone.  
  
Seunghyun is _gone._  
  
His mother says something beside him, some remark about Seunghyun and how he’ll be okay but Jiyong can’t put the words together in his head because the second Hyeyoon’s car is out of sight, he falls to pieces. Like a jigsaw puzzle swept violently off a table. He simply disintegrates. It doesn’t matter that his mother is half a foot away from him, he folds and crumbles and physically hits the ground beneath him, gravel digging painfully into his knees.  
  
He _cries._  
  
Not a quiet, stoic cry like they shared last night in the dark, a _real_ cry--- like someone has died or he has lost a piece of himself, because he has. It doesn’t matter that he’s come to terms with it, or that he doesn’t have a choice either way. It doesn’t matter that he knows they’ll be alright, that they can make it out the other side of this.  
  
None of that matters in this moment, because knowing there is a light at the end of the tunnel doesn’t make it less hard. The rest of the tunnel is still dark. Two years is too long. It’s too fucking long. Tears roll down his face and he audibly sobs. He can’t control himself.  
  
His mother lays a hand on his shoulder and starts talking over him, questioning, worried--- until he shakes her off and begs her, through his tears, to go inside. He is ashamed of himself for falling apart in front of her, for not being able to tell her what’s going on, for not having enough sense to simply wait until he could be alone. It just happened. He couldn’t have stopped it if he tried.  
  
So, his mother leaves without her explanation and he is left alone, staring at the point in the distance where he last saw Hyeyoon’s car, crying his heart out.  
  


  
  
  
*

 

  
  
He doesn’t seek his mother out until later, until he has spoken to Seunghyun on the phone, when he called to let him know he got there alright. It is obvious that Hyeyoon hasn’t yet had the conversation yet and Jiyong is grateful. He wouldn’t know what to say. He is too steeped in his own misery. They don’t say much to each other during the call, the impending separation suddenly all too real. They merely sit on the phone for a while and listen to each-other breathe until it becomes too much to bear and Seunghyun has to end it.  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  
Jiyong finds his mother in the kitchen. His father has gone for the night, drinking with old friends and he is grateful for his absence. The lights are dim. She is sitting with a glass of wine and her phone on the tabletop. The shrill sound of some game pours out of the illuminated screen. Jiyong sees colours and moving lights. He sits at the empty seat across from her and wonders if this is her first glass of wine, or her second. He wonders if this will be easier for her sober, or drunk.  
  
She smiles at him and says, ‘I’m almost finished this level’ and Jiyong nods his answer. Let her have one more minute of happiness. After tonight, maybe she’ll never play this game again. Maybe it’s association to this moment will ruin it forever. The thought makes him nauseous. His palms sweat. He sweats beneath his plaster cast. His chest _aches._  
  
Knowing this was inevitable doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t matter that he _knew_ when they first arrived, and his mother hugged Seunghyun, that he was going to do this. He has known since the moment he got here. He was just waiting for the right time. He was waiting for Seunghyun to leave in case it all went wrong. He wanted to protect him from this. To shield him from a repeat of the suffering he endured at the hands of his own mother.  
  
The possibility of that happening again makes Jiyong queasy. He finds it hard to swallow. Still, it doesn’t change anything. He has to do this. He can’t go another day without telling her, without telling _somebody_ who loves him the truth. He doesn’t know how he’ll get through the next few months without support and some honesty. He has to take the risk. He has to bet on himself and his family.  
  
She finishes her game a short time later with a look of total satisfaction and pushes the phone a little way to the left. When she looks up at him, across the tabletop, it’s with concern for his earlier outburst, and _love_. Jiyong smiles weakly and shrugs.   
  
‘I have to tell you something’.  
  
Before he can say anything else, tears are already in his eyes, the tremors already in his hands, the stone already in his throat. It chokes the words before they come out. Fear _tears through_ him. He begins to physically tremble, like he is caught in the snow. He can’t calm himself down. He can’t force the shaking to stop.  
  
‘What _is_ it?’ She asks, worried. ‘Tell me what?’  
  
‘Something about _me’._  
  
His voice comes out of him completely broken. Like each word has been cut up and pasted back together disjointed. A tear rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away with a shaking hand, every part of him aching from the flood of anxiety wreaking havoc on his body. He thinks about Seunghyun’s mother staring him down in Seunghyun’s kitchen, like he had betrayed her. Like he was less than. Like she was ashamed of him, and for what? The same things he is about to confess to his own mother. Doing this, he might be condemning himself to the same pain Seunghyun is living with. This could be the last time his mother looks at him with love. Wouldn’t that kill him?  
  
‘About Seunghyun,’ he continues.  
  
She looks so startled and concerned about his appearance and tone, she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers but he pulls away from her, protecting himself from the worst-case scenario in which he tells her what he is about to tell her, and she pulls away from him. That, he couldn’t bear. It would _destroy_ him.  
  
‘About _us_ ’.

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

  
  
  
  
It is a blisteringly cold day. It seems impossible to transition so quickly from yesterday’s morning heat to the biting cold of today. Jiyong draws in on himself, buffeted by the wind, even through his massive coat and furry hood. Every now and then a strong gust hits him and he loses his balance, stumbling to the side.  
  
He, Youngbae and a few other friends huddle together in the car park, crowding together behind Youngbae’s car. It would be more comfortable to wait _inside_ the car, but Jiyong finds something bracing about the cold. It feels like fitting weather for a sad goodbye, like the universe is in agreement that today is a shitty day. In some way, it makes him feel better.  
  
Seunghyun isn’t here yet. The clock is ticking down. A hundred feet up the road, behind a little fence, a swarm of fans are snapping photos through telescopic lenses in his direction. It serves as a reminder that there won’t be a touching, personal goodbye. What will they do instead? A manly slap on the back and an insipid _good luck?  
_  
Jiyong huddles further inside his coat.  
  
He wonders how Seunghyun will react when he drives through the gates and cops a dozen bedazzled banners against his windows, _‘Fighting! T.O.P!!’_ – Jiyong didn’t see, but Youngbae said there was a smaller poster doubling as a marriage proposal. Part of Jiyong finds that funny. The other part of him feels frustrated that people who have never even _met_ Seunghyun have the audacity to plaster their feelings for him on literal posters, when he can’t even kiss him goodbye. It’s unfair.  
  
Seunghyun, meanwhile, is late. He sent a text thirty minutes ago saying he was finally on his way, that he had met with Daesung this-morning and they had said their goodbyes in private. That because of that, he’ll be late, but late doesn’t really cover it. Seunghyun was meant to arrive with an hour to spare so they could all say their separate goodbyes and psych him up for the ceremony, but if he shows up in the next sixty seconds, he is leaving Jiyong with exactly 19 minutes to say goodbye. 19 minutes that he will have to share with other people.  
  
It is a small mercy that sixty seconds later, Seunghyun _does_ arrive. Hyeyoon’s car pulls into a distant parking space and Seunghyun gets out with his shaved head and a constipated look on his face that is either because of the cold, or sheer misery. Maybe both. The others, including Youngbae, jeer and clap and cheer some more as Seunghyun trudges down the carpark to meet them. Hyeyoon takes her time and hangs back.  
  
Jiyong’s heart stops when Seunghyun reaches them, but he loiters behind the others. He lets everyone have their turn slapping Seunghyun on the back, wishing him well, jeering and jokingly warning him about what is to come. Seunghyun takes it all well. He greets everyone and smiles and snaps back with a few witty retorts. He gives Jiyong an awkward platonic hug to keep up appearances.  
  
For a while, it seems like this is it, like they really won’t get a moment alone together and Jiyong panics because there are conversations they need to have. He needs to know if Seunghyun and Hyeyoon spoke. He needs to tell Seunghyun about what happened last night. But time passes so quickly, it slips through his fingers. With every breath he takes, time seems to move faster and faster. The clock ticks down and Seunghyun laughs here and there, as if they have all the time in the world.  
  
Soon enough, they have barely five minutes left until Seunghyun is past those final gates and out of his reach. Time is moving impossibly fast. It leaps and skips ahead. Impulsively, he grabs Seunghyun’s sleeve and pulls him to the side, shouting back at the others, ‘I have to give him a message---- from a _girl’._ The others jeer but it’s a typically dumb and believable cover. Jiyong drags Seunghyun by his puffy coat sleeve about twenty metres off, shielded partially by a parked car. By now, there is a steady stream of young guys with shaved heads making their way past them, filtering through the gates, but they have privacy to talk. For a moment anyway.  
  
‘Hey,’ Jiyong whispers.  
  
‘Hey’.  
  
There is a moment of silence where, maybe, they both have so much to say that it is easier to say nothing. But Jiyong practically feels that clock. He _feels_ the tick tick tick behind his eyes.  
  
‘Did your sister---‘  
  
‘Yeah,’ Seunghyun answers quickly, sounding pitifully overwhelmed.  
  
He must be terrified, or numb. What runs through your head when you have five minutes left to live? This feels a bit like that. Jiyong can’t even guess.  
  
‘And?’ Jiyong pushes, nervously. ‘How do you feel? Are you okay?’  
  
Seunghyun shrugs helplessly but cracks an earnest smile. They simply don’t have time to talk about this. How can he condense a lifetime of allayed fears into a thirty second parcel of time? How can he explain the feeling of knowing differently?  
  
‘What can I say?’ Seunghyun laughs. ‘It’s nice. It feels nice’.  
  
He shrugs, helpless to find the right words. He simply doesn’t have time. He can't explain what Hyeyoon’s acceptance means to him and Jiyong is sorry for that. He wants to hear it in Seunghyun’s words. He wants to know every detail. He wants to know if this has changed Seunghyun’s vision of the future. If he feels less lonely now. If this helps assuage his pain over his mother. Does he feel the way Jiyong does? That Hyeyoon knowing provides an opportunity for them both? Hyeyoon is an outlet for them to be themselves in front of a third party. It seems insignificant at first thought, but Jiyong knows the ache that comes from hiding. From not being able to say to _one person---_ this is who I am, this is who I love. To kiss each other in front of another person? They’ve never done that. The mere thought makes Jiyong’s head spin. It matters. Even if it’s just one person, it _matters_.  
  
‘I’m happy for you,’ Jiyong smiles.  
  
‘Thanks’.  
  
A siren goes off in the background and the stream of young men filing past them moves faster. Seunghyun shuffles awkwardly, visibly stressed.  
  
‘I have to go’.  
  
‘I know,’ Jiyong answers, pained.   
  
Panic rises in his chest. He second-guesses himself. Maybe today isn’t the right time to tell Seunghyun about last night. Maybe this is the _worst_ possible time, but he has to _tell_ him. He feels that insensible rush of selfishness and he hates himself for it, but if he can’t tell Seunghyun now, he won’t be able to bear it. He needs Seunghyun to shoulder this _with_ him.  
  
‘Seunghyun, I have to tell you something’.  
  
A flash of concern crosses Seunghyun’s face and Jiyong wonders how he might break this to him if he had more time. How he would ease into this information, because this is not insignificant. This is too much to dump on somebody the way he dumped it on his mother last night, but this is all he has time for.  
  
His voice, when he speaks, sounds hopelessly ordinary.  
  
‘I told my mom that I like men,’ he says, talking in a torrent. ‘Last night. I told her. And I told her about you too. I’m sorry I did that without asking you. I know how it feels to be outed. I'm so sorry, but I told her everything. I did. Not the miserable parts, just the highlights. I told her about us. I told her that I love you. I told her that we’ve been together for years. I told her that all those times she asked me why I didn’t have a girlfriend, I was with _you_ and couldn’t tell her’.  
  
Seunghyun reels. He physically steps back. He seems almost to disassociate. Seeing him react this way fills Jiyong with regret but he hasn’t finished yet. He hasn’t said the important part. He grabs Seunghyun’s arm through his coat. He tries to fit in between every word all the stuff he doesn’t have time to say. All the nuance. What this means for their future.  
  
‘She seemed okay with it,’ Jiyong presses on. ‘She was shocked and it’s going to take some time, probably, but she was basically okay. She said Dad will be okay with it too, eventually, after some time. She said they love me and want me to be happy. All that stuff. The good parent speech. She said she was happy that I’ve been happy’.  
  
It was a little more complicated than that, a little happier and more profound. Also, sadder at times. What matters most is the fact that she still loves him. She loves him and one day, Seunghyun might seem like a natural part of his life. If they have anything, they have _time_. They have two years for his parents to get used to the idea and then a lifetime of exposure because that’s what will happen. They will be exposed to Seunghyun. Jiyong will encourage it. He will drag Seunghyun to their home and to the pension as often as he needs to. He will invite his family over as many times as it takes for them to be happy, not just content or tolerant. Because they _will_ be happy for him eventually. He knows that. How much easier will it be for his parents when they see, down the road, how his life is profoundly better for having Seunghyun in it?  
  
’I’m really sorry I didn’t ask you first,’ Jiyong apologises. ‘Don’t be mad. I just cracked, you know? The second you left yesterday, I lost it. I cried my eyes out in front of her. I had to come up with an excuse and I told the truth instead. I kind of planned on it though, days ago. I knew I was going to tell her. I should have asked you first and I didn’t’.  
  
Seunghyun seems to shake himself out of his dazed state.  
  
‘This is real?’  
  
‘Yeah,’ Jiyong shrugs, breathless. ‘I mean that’s what she said, but I believe her. She just needs a bit of time to settle, probably’.  
  
Seunghyun’s face is stunned. In his stupor, Jiyong can see the flicker of Seunghyun's heartache that he couldn’t get this acceptance from his own mother. Maybe a brief second of resentment too, that Jiyong should be so lucky. Seunghyun is visibly dumbfounded and Jiyong knows they have no time to have a meaningful conversation about _any_ of this. That even with all their preparations, they have no time to say what really needs saying.  
  
Jiyong remembers. He pats around his pockets and pulls out the small envelope his mother gave to him this-morning. He hesitates but hands it over.  
  
‘She told me to give this to you’.  
  
Seunghyun takes the proffered envelope and pales.  
  
‘I don’t know what’s in it,’ Jiyong warns.  
  
‘Maybe there’s a cheque and a note telling me to stay away from you,’ Seunghyun jests, visibly stressed. He tears the corner with his teeth and pulls out a small piece of paper. Jiyong recognises his mother’s writing, but Seunghyun keeps the paper from his reach. He pulls it away every time Jiyong tries to see it. The paper shakes in his hand. Jiyong wonders if that’s from fear or from cold.  
  
He suddenly panics that his mother’s acceptance was all a ruse. That this small note to Seunghyun is something horrible, some kind of threat or admonishment or something even worse. He should have opened it. He should have read it.  
  
When he told her last night, it took forever to make himself clear. He feared he would have to draw a diagram to make her understand what ‘ _I love him,’_ meant. That ‘ _we are together,_ ’ didn’t mean standing in the same room. She cried _a lot_ and Jiyong’s heart still feels unsteady for having heard and seen it, but she seemed genuinely to accept it by the end. She even tried to say nice things about Seunghyun, which in her shock and confusion were mostly about him not being a violent criminal, as if that was all to recommend him. That she had _tried_ though, in her shock and hurt--- that counted. Because there _must_ have been hurt. Jiyong could see it when he confessed for the second time, his first time unintelligible through his tears. Still, she seemed to soften as time went on. She softened at _seven years._ She softened to know he wasn’t alone.  
  
Her willingness to try and understand? That was real.  
  
This-morning, when he turned the key in Seunghyun’s car, ready to come and say goodbye, she tapped on the window and passed him an envelope addressed to him. She had smiled rather sweetly but bashfully as well, as if unsure how to behave now, unsure if him liking men changes anything. There will be a learning curve, he knows.  
  
He took the letter and promised to pass it along once she promised him it didn’t contain anything bad. Seunghyun’s face sinks as he reads though and Jiyong wonders if she didn’t lie to him. Seunghyun frowns and swallows hard when he gets to the bottom of the page. Jiyong sees the bob in his throat. Seunghyun looks profoundly sad, barely keeping himself together. He looks devastated and Jiyong’s heart sinks.  
  
‘Let me read it’.  
  
‘No’.  
  
Seunghyun’s voice is gravelly. He clears his throat to try and get it back to normal. He folds the paper and shoves it in his pocket.  
  
‘At least tell me what it says,’ Jiyong begs. ‘Was it horrible? Oh God, fuck. I’m so _sorry---‘_  
  
Seunghyun laughs quietly and sniffs, looking up at the sky for a moment to blink back his tears. He takes a quiet moment to get himself together and Jiyong sees that he isn’t _sad_. He's just emotional.  
  
‘She said she's sorry about my mother,’ Seunghyun shrugs, trying to be stoic. His voice betrays him. His brow knits, like the sheer _idea_ of someone saying that to him is insane. Like it is unthinkable that any mother could be different or disagree with his own. ‘She told me that’s not my fault,’ he says, dazed.  
  
Jiyong’s heart almost stops for thinking about that; that his mother in the middle of her own confusion had the heart to say that to him. Jiyong told her what happened that day in Seunghyun’s kitchen. He had to. Maybe that softened her. Maybe the thought of Seunghyun’s mother disowning him was so abhorrent to her, she was nudged in the other direction. Perhaps the bad example made it easier for her to set a better one. Even if it will take time for her to fully understand, she knows how _not_ to feel.  
  
‘She said she doesn’t really understand what’s going on yet, with you and me,’ Seunghyun continues. ‘But she’d like to send me things. With my permission--- and that if I want, I can send things back. Letters, I guess. So we can get to know each other better’.  
  
Jiyong’s heart almost leaves his body.  
  
‘Tell her that would be okay,’ Seunghyun says quickly. ‘If she sent me things here sometimes’.  
  
_‘Oh God,’_ Jiyong cries.  
  
His voice trembles and he has to mimic Seunghyun’s eyes-on-the-sky manoeuvre, to try and keep himself together. He couldn’t in a thousand years have predicted or even hoped for this. Maybe this is all because of Seunghyun’s enlistment. The lack of time made his mother act on instinct. It didn’t give her time to process and work through it. It forced her hand and her instincts suggested Seunghyun will be a fixture. That she should get ahead of the curve. And maybe she won’t write a letter right away, but with Seunghyun’s permission, she will eventually. When she has come to grips with all of this. She will try to get to know him, not as his friend but something else. Jiyong is hopelessly _proud_ of her, and _grateful._ He has no illusions that his father will be so easy, but that’s a problem for another day.  
  
'I wish we had more time,' Jiyong laughs anxiously, in desperation.  
  
Seunghyun smiles but says nothing. What can he say? What can either of them say? They have been saying their goodbyes in fleeting touches and gestures for days, weeks, months. This part? It was always going to be like this. A second siren blares in the distance and that’s it. The final call.  
  
Seunghyun has to go.  
  
‘Fuck,’ Jiyong cries, unable to keep his voice measured. ‘Fuck. _Fuck’._  
  
Seunghyun sniffs and pulls him in for a hug. Stoic. He whispers into Jiyong’s hair.  
  
‘We’ll be okay. Both of us'.  
  
Jiyong bites back the torrent of tears threatening to overtake him. He digs his fingers into Seunghyun’s jacket. He doesn’t want to let go. There are still too many things unsaid. They need so much more _time._ Seunghyun pulls back and they look each other in the eyes. They have a whole conversation in the space of a second. One look that acknowledges the wealth of things that will be left unspoken. Jiyong can barely see through his tears. He begins to unravel. Seunghyun looks only marginally better. They have to reign this in. They have to stop. They have to keep up appearances. They have to make this less hard. Still, he has to say goodbye. One last time.  
  
‘I love you,’ Jiyong says emphatically. ‘I have _always_ loved you. I will love you for the rest of my life. I will love you in our next life and the one after that, and the one after that’.  
  
Seunghyun smiles, trying to toughen up.  
  
‘That's corny,’ he says.  
  
Jiyong laughs and tries to toughen up too.  
  
‘Very’.  
  
After that, it all happens so quickly. It is unthinkable. Seunghyun places a gentle hand on his back and they walk together. They head back towards their huddled group of friends and Seunghyun talks quietly in his ear on the way, with a dozen small reminders.  
  
‘Remember to stay in my villa from now on. Don’t go back to your apartment without somebody with you. Do your best when you see that psychiatrist and if you ever need anything, call my sister. Call John too, if you need to talk. Please let him help you. Everything that’s mine is yours now,’ he says hurriedly. ‘We’ll see each other again soon. You'll be okay. I love you’.  
  
Talking a mile a minute and walking as slowly as possible, that is all Seunghyun has time to say before they re-join the group. Seunghyun hugs everyone once more in turn, and they walk him to the point where they have to part ways. Seunghyun whispers his final goodbye in Jiyong’s ear without anybody noticing and then he is at the gate, and they are sharing one last moment of eye contact in which everything they need to say is _said._  
  
And then he is gone. Like a whirlwind, it seems to happen in an instant. There isn’t any time for Jiyong to savour the moment, or their final seconds with each other. He is simply there and then gone.  
  
Jiyong breaks but only for a second, because Seunghyun walks away from them with purpose. He walks with his head held high and his shoulders straight, and Jiyong knows he’s going to try his best, so he has to do the same.  
  
The future will be better. It already _is_ better. Like Seunghyun said on his balcony days ago, they are better people _now_. They are better people for what they have been through and survived. They are better people for what they have fought for, individually and together. What are two years in the face of a lifetime of reaping those rewards?  
  
He wants a future with Seunghyun. He has been fighting for a life with him, unconsciously reaching out for something that is only now within his reach. Maybe, he got lost along the way. Maybe he dug his own grave for a while. Maybe he was broken and damaged. Maybe the next few months will be the hardest of his life, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. If he really tries, he can have a life with Seunghyun after the army. He can have a life where he is comfortable in his own skin and his own choices. He can live his life without doubts. He can be Kwon Jiyong. He can be an individual _,_ not one half of a whole. He can live a life where he accepts that it’s possible to be _both_. He can be with Seunghyun and be happy. He can accept his limitations and find the happiness in that. Maybe that most of all.  
  
That life is somewhere off in the distance. He isn’t there yet, but he can see it on the horizon. He is on the path. And maybe the road to get there will be harder than he expects, but he’ll get through it. He will survive the next few months and what comes after it. He will face his problems and his pain and he will be stronger for it. He will try his best. The way Seunghyun has been rebuilding his life and seeking happiness in the figuring stuff out--- he will find a way to do the same. He will survive.   
  
  
  


*  
  


  
When it's all over and done with and the crowd has dispersed, Youngbae slaps him on the back and guides him out of the bustling carpark. They all move together, in a group, with each person joking about Seunghyun’s prospects in the army, but each coming from a place of love. For the second time this week, Jiyong finds comfort in a crowd. With the wind buffeting them all, he shrinks into his coat. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and secrets the last words that Seunghyun spoke to him, whispered in his ear at the last second, away in his heart for safe keeping.  
  
‘Be good. I love you’.

 


End file.
